.^^.y. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


2.5 


■A£12.8 

■^  Ui2   12.2 


^  us, 

lit 


1.25  III  1.4 


IJ4 


VI 


/ 


>^ 


'-^ 


y 


Photographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


513  V  r5Y  MAIN  5T»i!IT 

WftuSi^M.NY.  14949 

(7)6)  •72-4503 


^V' 
^ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiquos 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 


D 


D 


0 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  da  couieur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagte 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurAe  et/ou  peiliculAe 


I      I   Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


□   Coloured  maps/ 
Cartes  gtographiques  en  couieur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couieur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I   Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couieur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrie  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intArieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutAes 
lore  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  ceia  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  At6  fiimAes. 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires; 


Various  psBingi. 


L'Institut  a  microf  ilm6  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique.  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  una 
modification  dans  la  mAthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


• 


D 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  chocked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 


Pages  de  couieur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagtes 


Th4 
to 


□    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pelliculAes 


Thi 
poi 
of 
filr 


Ori 
bei 
th( 
sio 
oti 
fira 
sio 
or 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dAcoiortes.  tachetAes  ou  piqudes 


0    Pages  detached/ 
Pages  dAtachAes 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 


Quality  inAgale  de  I'impression 

includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplAmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Adition  disponibie 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieilement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  AtA  filmAes  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Th( 
shi 
Tl^ 
wh 

Ma 
difi 
en^ 
be{ 
rigl 
req 
me 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

7 

12X 


IfX 


aox 


24X 


2IX 


32X 


ails 

du 

difier 

jne 

laga 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Vanoouwr  School  of  Thsology 
Library 

The  imagea  appearing  here  are  the  beat  quality 
poaeible  conaidering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  ihtt  original  copy  and  in  Icaeping  with  the 
f ilrding  contract  apecif icationa. 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
gAnAroaitA  da: 

Vancouver  School  of  Theology 
Library 

Lea  imiigea  auivantea  ont  AtA  reproduites  avac  la 
plus  grand  aoin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  ia  nettetA  de  I'exeniplaire  filmA,  et  en 
conformitA  avac  lea  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copiea  in  printed  paper  covera  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  iaat  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  imprea> 
sion,  or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filnred  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  iJluatrated  imprea- 
sion,  and  ending  on  the  Iaat  page  with  a  printed 
or  illuatrated  impreasion. 


Lea  exemplairea  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  eat  ImprimAe  aont  filmAs  en  commenpant 
par  ie  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  Ie  aecond 
plat,  salon  Ie  caa.  Toua  lea  autrea  exemplairea 
originaux  aont  fiimAa  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  Iaat  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
ahall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "COIM- 
TINUED"),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  das  symboles  suivanta  apparaitra  aur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  Ie 
cas:  Ie  aymboie  — ►  aignifie  "A  SUIVRE",  Ie 
aymbole  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 


Mapa,  plates,  charta,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  et 
different  reduction  ratioa.  Thoae  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  expoaure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hend  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  as 
required.  The  following  diagrama  iiluatrate  the 
method: 


Lea  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmAs  A  des  taux  de  rAduction  diff Arenta. 
Lorsque  Ie  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  aeui  clichA,  11  est  filmA  A  partir 
de  I'angle  aupArieur  geuche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  baa,  en  prenant  Ie  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Las  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


ata 


Blure, 
A 


3 


2X 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

I 


GENERAL    BOOTH. 


-^^f 


Darke 


NGLAlvfD 


p 


mS' 


AND 


THE  WAY  OUT 


( 


7>" 

? 


.   BY 


GENERAL  BOOTH 


/v  CHICAGO : 

/         LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHERS 
.T      -  1890 


i    ..A, 


'   H 


m 


\ . 


TO  THE  MEMORY 

OF  THE 

COMPANION,  COUNSELLOR,  AND  COl 

OF  NEARLY  40   YEARS, 

THE  SHARER  OF  MY  E  VER  Y  A  MB  I 

FOR 

THE  WELFARE  OF  MANKIND, 
MY 
LOVING,  FAITHFUL,  AND  DEVOTED 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATE! 


I. 


.Ki.    ).■.;?  J 


S-    V 


.;2io 


,-'4  ^ 


!«■  {;;,'^.  ir 


\:t 


•:/fl 


'  ,4 


(v1 


ir;-.. 


CONTENTS. 


PART    I.-THE    DARKNESS. 


CHAPTER  I.                                        PACK. 
Why  «  Darkest  England  ?  " 9 

;?;                                         CHAPTER  II. 
The  Submerged  Tenth. 17 

CHAPTER  III.     - 
The  Homeless » 24 

^  CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Out-of- Works. 32  - 

CHAPTER  V. 
Gn  the  Verge  of  the  Abyss. .^ 40 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Vicious 46 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Cttminds, 57 

"                       CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Children  of  the  Lost 62 

jj'                                      CTiAPTER  IX. 
:^        .ioH?lp? 67 


■  --v  ^■ 


y 


PART    II.-DELIVERANCE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


•  ••  ••  ••••■•«•••••••*•••«  »•••••«•••••••• 


85 
90 


A  STUPENDOUS  UNDERTAKING. 

bn  I. — ^The  Essentials  to  Success i 

2. — My  Scheme 

CHAPTER  II.  ' 

TO  THE  rescue!  —  THE  CITY  COLONY. 

,,    Section  i.=— Food  and  Shelter  for  Every  Man 94 

2,_Work  for  the  Out-of- Works— The  Factory 105 

3.— The  Regimentation  of  the  Unemployed iii 

4.— The  Household  Salvage  Brigade 4 .. . , .  114. 

(5) 


\ 


a 

\     « 
,; 


.p 


■PT 


CONTENTS 
CHAPTER  III. 

TO  THE  country!  —  THE  FARM  COLONY. 


PAGB. 


\ 


Section  i. — The  Farm  Proper 124  ^ 

«       2.— The  Industrial  Village 135 

"       3. — Agrictiltural  Villages 140 

"       4.^ — Co-operative  Farm 142 

CHAPTER  IV. 

NEW  BRITAIN — THE  COLONY  OVER  SEA. 

Section  I. — The  Colony  and  the  Colonists 146 

"       2. — Universal  Emigration 150 

««       3.— The  Salvation  Ship 152 

CHAPTER  V. 

MORE  CRUSADES. 

Section  i. — A  Slam  Crusade — Our  Slum  Sisters 158 

"       2.— The  Traveling  Hospital 170 

I   "       3. — Regeneration  of  Our  Criminals — The  Prison  Gate  Brigade. . .  173 

"       4. — Effectual  Deliverance  for  the  Drunkard 180 

•*       5. — A  new  Way  of  Escape  for  Lost  Women — The  Rescue  Homes,  188 

•*       6. — A  Preventive  Home  for  Unfallen  Girls  when  in  Danger 192 

'*       7. — Enquiry  Office  for  Lost  People 194 

"       8. — Refuges  for  Children  of  the  Streets 201 

"       9. — Industrial  Schools 202 

la — Asylums  for  Moral  Lunatics 204 

CHAPTER  VL 

ASSISTANCE  IN  GENERAL.  ^ 

I. — Improved  Lodgings ., ,  ^» 

2. — Model  Suburban  Villages ,.';►.,  .|2io 

3. — The  Poor  Man's  Bank '..'^^£-1% 

<*       4. — The  Poor  Man's  Lawyer 2^8   - 

"       5. — Intelligence  Department 2^5ff  '*' 

"       6. — Co-operation  in  General 229 1:".- 

"       7. — Matrimonial  Bureau 343  )' 

"       8. — Whitechapel-by-the-Sea 23^' 

CHAPTER  VIL 

CAN   IT  HE  DONE,   AND  HOW? 

Section  i. — The  Credentials  of  the  Salvation  Army 24'j ,  | 

"       2.— How  Much  Will  it  Cost  ? 246V  ^ 

"       3. — Some  Advantages  Stated 252    | 

"       4. — Some  Objections  Met 258    ' 

♦«       5. — Recapitulation 270 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  Practical  Conclusion 277 


\ 


li 


I'i 


Section 

M 
(« 


•| 


PREFACE. 


The  progress  of  The  Salvation  Army  in  its  work  amongst  the  poor  and 
lost  of  many  lands  has  compelled  me  to  face  the  problems  which  are  more 
or  less  hopefully  considered  in  the  following  pages.  The  grim  necessities 
of  a  huge  Campaign  carried  on  for  many  years  against  the  evils  which  lie 
at  the  root  of  all  the  miseries  of  modern  life,  attacked  in  a  thousand  and 
one  forms  by  a  thousand  and  one  Ijeutenants,  have  led  me  step  by  step  to 
contemplate  as  a  possible  solution  of  at  least  some  of  those  problems  the 
Scheme  of  Social  Selection  and  Salvation  which  I  have  here  set  forth. 

When  but  a  mere  child  the  degradation  and  helpless  misery  of  the  poor 
Stockingers  of  my  native  town,  wandering  gaunt  and  hunger-stricken 
through  the  streets  droning  out  their  melancholy  ditties,  crowding  the 
Union  or  toiling  like  galley  slaves  on  relief  works  for  a  bare  subsistence, 
kindled  in  my  heart  yearnings  to  help  the  poor  which  have  continued  to 
this  day  and  which  have  had  a  powerful  influence  on  my  whole  life.  At 
last  I  may  be  going  to  see  my  longings  to  held  the  workless  realised.  I 
think  I  am. 

The  commiseration  then  awakened  by  the  misery  of  this  class  has  been 
an  impelling  force  which  has  never  ceased  to  make  itself  felt  during  forty 
years  of  active  service  in  the  salvation  of  men.  During  this  time  I  am 
thankful  that  I  have  been  able,  by  the  good  hand  of  God  upon  me,  to  do 
something  in  mitigation  of  the  miseries  of  this  class,  and  to  bring  not 
only  heavenly  hopes  and  earthly  gladness  to  the  hearts  of  multitudes  of 
these  wretched  crowds,  but  also  many  material  blessings,  including  such 
commonplace  things  as  food,  raiment,  home,  and  work,  the  parent  of  so 
many  other  temporal  l^eneflts.  And  thus  many  poor  creatures  have  proved 
Godliness  to  be  "  profitable  unto  all  things,  having  the  promise  of  the  life 
that  now  is  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  come." 

These  results  have  been  mainly  attained  by  spiritual  means.  I  have 
boldly  asserted  that  whatever  his  peculiar  character  or  circumstances  might 
be,  if  the  prodigal  would  come  home  to  his  Heavenly  Father,  he  would 
find  enough  and  to  spare  in  the  Father's  house  to  supply  all  his  need  both 

(7) 


8 


PREFACE. 


o 


I  1 


for  this  world  and  the  next ;  and  I  have  known  thousands,  naj,  I  can  say 
tens  of  thousands,  who  have  literally  proved  this  to  be  true,  having,  with 
little  or  no  temporal  assistance,  come  out  of  the  darkest  depths  of  destitu- 
tion, vice  and  crime,  to  be  happy  and  honest  citizens  and  true  sons  and 
servants  of  God. 

And  yet  all  the  way  through  my  career  I  have  keenly  felt  the  remedial 
measures  usually  enunciated  in  Christian  programmes  and  ordinarily  em- 
ployed by  Christian  philanthropy  to  be  lamentably  inad^uate  for  any 
effectual  dealing  with  the  despairing  miseries  of  these  outcast  classes.  The 
rescued  are  appalingly  i^w — a  ghastly  minority  compared  with  the  multi> 
tudcs  who  struggle  and  sink  in  the  open-mouthed  abyss.  Alike,  therefore, 
my  humanity  and  my  Christianity,  if  I  may  speak  of  them  in  any  way  as 
separate  one  from  the  other,  have  cried  out  for  some  more  comprehensive 
method  of  reaching  and  saving  the  perishing  crowds. 

No  doubt  it  is  good  for  men  to  climb  unaided  out  of  the  whirlpool  on  to 
the  rock  of  deliverance  in  the  very  presence  of  the  temptations  which  have 
hitherto  mastered  them,  and  to  maintain  a  footing  there  with  the  same 
billows  of  temptation  washing  over  them.  But,  alas  1  with  many  this  seems 
to  be  literally  impossible.  That  decisiveness  of  character,  that  moral  nerve 
which  takes  hold  of  the  rope  thrown  for  the  rescue  and  keeps  its  hold 
amidst  all  the  resistances  that  have  to  be  encountered,  is  wanting.  It  is 
gone.     The  general  wreck  has  shattered  and  disorganized  the  whole  man. 

Alas,  whai  tudes  there  are  around  us  everywhere,  many  known  to 

my  readers  p^  ■'illy*  and  any  number  who  may  be  known  to  them  by  a 
very  short  walk  from  their_  own  dwellings,  who  are  in  this  very  plight ! 
Their  vicious  habits  and  destitute  circumstances  make  it  certain  that,  with- 
out some  kind  of  extraordinary  help,  they  must  hunger  and  sin,  and  sin 
and  hunger,  until,  having  multiplied  their  kind,  and  filled  up  the  neasure 
of  their  miseries,  the  gaunt  fingers  of  death  will  close  upon  thorn  and 
terminate  their  wretchedness.  And  all  this  will  happen  this  very  winter 
in  the  midst  of  the  unparalleled  wealth,  and  civilisation,  and  philanthropy 
of  this  professedly  most  Christian  land. 

Now  I  propose  to  go  straight  for  these  sinking  classes,  and  in  doing  so 
shall  continue  to  aim  at  the  heart.  I  still  prophesy  the  uttermost  dis- 
appointment unless  that  citadel  is  reached.  In  proposing  to  add  one  more 
to  the  methods  I  have  already  put  in  operation  to  this  end,  do  not  let  it  be 
supposed  that  I  am  the  less  dependent  upon  the  old  plans,  or  that  I  seek 
anything  short  of  the  old  conquest.  If  we  help  the  man  it  is  in  order  that 
we  may  change  him.  The  builder  who  should  elaborate  his  design  and 
erect  his  house  and  risk  his  reputation  without  burning  his  bricks  would 
be  pronounced  a  failure  and  a  fool.  Perfection  of  architectural  beauty, 
unlimited  expenditure  of  capital,  unfailing  watchfullness  of  his  labourers, 
would  avail  him  nothing  if  the  bricks  were  merely  unkilned  clay.    Let  him 


\ 


-^^  ^1 


'7  '. 


f 


I  ''-^V 


PREFACE, 


kindle  a  fire.  And  so  here  I  see  the  folly  of  noping  to  accomplish  any- 
thing abiding,  either  in  the  circumstances  or  the  morals  of  these  hopeless 
classes,  except  there  be  a  change  effected  in  the  whole  man  as  well  as  in 
his  surroxmdings.  To  this  everything  I  hope  to  attempt  will  tend.  In 
many  cases  I  shall  succeed,  in  some  I  shall  fail;  but  even  in  failing  of  this 
my  ultimate  design,  I  shall  at  least  benefit  the  bodies,  if  not  the  souls,  of 
men,  and  if  I  do  not  save  the  fathers,  I  shall  make  a  better  chance  for  the 
children. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  in  this  or  in  any  other  development  that 
may  follow,  I  have  no  intention  to  depart  in  the  smallest  degree  from  the 
main  principles  on  which  I  have  acted  in  the  past.  My  only  hope  ^or  the 
permanent  deliverance  of  mankind  from  misery,  either  in  this  world  or  the 
next,  is  the  regeneration  or  remaking  of  the  individual  by  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  through  Jesus  Christ.  But  in  providing  for  the  relief  of  tem- 
poral  misery  I  reckon  that  I  am  only  making  it  easy  where  it  is  now 
difficult,  and  possible  where  it  Js  now  all  but  impossible,  for  men  and 
.^/•omen  to  find  their  way  to  the  Cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
'■^  ^  That  I  have  confidence  in  my  proposals  goes  without  saying.  I  believe 
they  will  work.  In  miniature  many  of  them  are  working  already.  But  I 
do  not  claim  that  my  Scheme  is  either  perfect  in  its  details  or  complete  in 
the  sense  of  being  atdequate  to  combat  all  forms  of  the  gigantic  evils  against 
which  it  is  in  the  main  directed.  Like  other  human  things*  it  must  be 
perfected  through  suffering.  But  it  is  a  sincere  endeavour  to  do  something, 
and  to  do  it  on  principles  which  can  be  instantly  applied  and  universally 
developed.  Time,  experience,  criticism,  and,  above  all  the  guidance  of 
God  will  enable  us,  I  hope,  to  advance  on  the  lines  here  laid  down  to  a 
true  and  practical  application  of  the  words  of  the  Hebrew  Prophet:  "  Loose 
the  bands  of  Avickedness;  undo  the  heavy  burdens;  let  the  oppressed  go  free; 
break  every  yoke;  deal  thy  bread  to  the  hungry;  bring  the  poor  that  are 
cast  out  to  thy  house.  When  thou  seest  the  naked  cover  him  and  hide  not 
thyself  from  thine  own  flesh.  Draw  out  thy  soul  to  the  hungry — ^Then 
they  that  be  of  thee  shall  build  the  old  waste  places  and  Thou  shalt  raise 
up  the  foundations  of  many  generations. " 

To  one  who  has  been  for  thirty-five  years  indissolubly  associated  with 
me  in  every  undertaking  I  owe  much  of  the  inspiration  which  has  found 
expression  in  this  book.  It  is  probably  difficult  for  me  to  fully  estimate 
the  extent  to  which  the  splendid  benevolence  and  unbounded  sympathy  of 
her  character  have  pressed  me  forward  in  the  life-long  service  of  man,  to 
which  we  have  devoted  both  ourselves  and  our  children.  It  will  be  an 
ever  green  and  precious  memory  to  me  that  amid  the  ceaseless  suffering  of 
a  dreadful  malady  my  dying  wife  found  relief  in  considering  and  developing 
the  suggestions  for  the  moral  and  social  and  spiritual  blessing  of  the  people 
which  are  here  set  forth,  and  I  do  thank  God  she  was  taken  from  me  only 


,>1 


'O 


Y^- 


^-iv- 


10 


PREFACE. 


when  the  book  was  practically  complete  and  the  last  chapters  had  been 
sent  to  the  press. 

In  conclusion,  I  have  to  acknowledge  the  services  rendered  to  me  in 
preparing  this  book  by  Officers  under  my  command.  There  could  be 
no  hope  of  carrying  out  auy  part  of  it,  but  for  the  fact  that  so  many 
thousands  are  ready  at  my  call  and  under  my  direction  to  labour  to  the 
very  utmost  of  their  strength  for  the  salvation  of  others  without  the  hope 
of  earthly  reward.  Of  the  practical  common  sense,  the  resource,  the  readi* 
ness  for  every  form  of  usefullness  of  those  Officers  and  Soldiers,  the  world 
has  no  conception.  Still  less  is  it  capable  of  understandmg  the  height  and 
depth  of  their  self-sacrificing  devotion  to  God  and  the  poor. 

I  have  also  to  acknowledge  valuable  literary  help  from  a  friend  orthe 
poor,  who,  though  not  in  any  way  connected  with  the  Salvation  Army, 
has  the  deepest  sympathy  with  its  aims,  and  is  to  a  large  extent  in  harmony 
with  its  principles.  Without  such  assistance  I  should  propably  have  found 
it — overwhelmed  as  I  already  am  with  the  affairs  of  a  world-wide  enter- 
prise — extremely  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  have  presented  these 
proposals,  for  which  I  am  alone  responsible,  in  so  complete  a  form,  at  any 
rate  at  this  time.  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  any  substantial  part  of  my  plan 
is  successfully  carried  out  he  will  consider  himself  more  than  repaid  for 
the  services  so  ably  iendered. 

WILLIAM  BOOTH. 
International  Head^jarters  of 
The  Salvation  Army, 

London,  E.  C,  October^  189a 


i 


In    Darkest    England 


PARTI.— THE    DARKNESS 


CHAPTER  I. 
WHV    «•  DARKEST    ENGLAND"? 

This  summer  the  attention  of  the  civilised  world  has  been  nrrestcd 
by  the  story  which  }/It.  Stanley  has  told  of  "Darkest  Africa"  and 
his  journeyings  across  the  heart  of  the  Lost  Continent.  In  all  that 
spirited  narrative  of  heroic  endeavour,  nothing  has  so  much  im- 
pressed the  imagination,  as  his  description  of  the  immense  forest, 
which  ofiered  an  almost  impenetrable  barriir  to  nis  advance.  Tlie 
intrepid  ,^xplorer,  in  his  own  phrase,  "  marched,  tore,  ploughed, 
and  cut  his  way  for  one  hundred  and  sixty  days  through  this  inner 
;womb  of  the  true  tropical  forest."  The  mind  of  man  with  difficulty 
endeavour?  to  realise  this  immensity  of  wooded  wilderness,  covering 
a  territory  half  as  large  again  as  the  wliole  of  France,  where  the 
rays  of  the  sun  rvever  penetrate,  where  in  the  dark,  dank  air,  filled 
with  the  steam  of  the  heated  morass,  human  be'rngs  dwarfed  into 
pygmies  and  brutalized  into  cannibals  lurk  and  live  and  die.  Mr. 
Stanley  vainly  endeavours  to  bring  home  to  us  the  full  horror  of 
that  awful  gloom.     He  says : 

Take  a  thick  Scottish  copse  dripping  with  rain ;  imagine  this  to  oe  a  mere 
undergrowth  nourished  under  the  impenetrable  shade  of  ancient  trees  ranging 
from  lOO  to  180  feet  high  ;  briars  and  thorns  abundant ;  lazy  creeks  meandcjiiig 
through  the  depths  of  the  jungle,  and  sometimes  a  c\;cp. affluent  of  a  great  river. 
Imagine  this  forest *and  jungle  in  all  stages  of  decay  and  growth,  rain  pattering 
on  you  every  other  day  of  the  year;  an  impure  atmosphere  with  its  dread  con- 
sequences, fever  and  dysentery;  gloom  throughout  the  day  and  darkness 
almost  palpable  throughout  the  night;  and  then  if  you  can  imagme  such 
a  forest  extending  the  entire  distance  from  Plymouth  to  Peterhead,  you  will 
have  a  fair  idea  of  some  of  the  inconveniences  endured  by  us  in  the  Conga  forest. 

The  denizens  of  this  region  are  filled  with  a  conviction  that  the 
foreit  is  endless — interminable.  In  vain  did  Mr.  Stanley  and  his 
companions  endeavour  to  convince  them  that  outside  the  dreary  wood 
were  to  be  found  sunlight,  pasturage  and  peaceful  meadows. 

They  replied  in  a  manner  that  seemed  to  imply  that  we  must  be  strange 
creatures  to  suppose  that  it  would  be  possible  for  any  world  to  exist  save  Uidc 


i 


M 


I 


<i 


10 


WHY   "  DARKEST" ENGLAND"  T 


illimitabl*  forest.  "No,"  they  replied,  shaking  their  heads  compassionately,  and 
pitying  our  absurd  questions,  ''ail  like  this,"  and  they  moved  their  hands 
sweepingly  to  illustrate  that  the  world  xvas  all  alike,  nothing  but  trees,  trees  and 
trees — great  trees  rising  as  high  as  an  arrow  shot  to  the  sky,  lifting  their  crowns 
intertwining  their  branches,  pressing  and  crowding  one  against  the  other,  until 
neither  the  sunlcam  nor  shaft  of  light  can  penetrate  it. 

"  We  entered  the  forest,"  says  Mr.  Stanley,  "  with  confi^lence  ;  forty 
pioneers  in  front  with  axes  and  bill  hooks  to  clear  a  path  through  the 
obstructions,'  praying  that  God  and  good  fortune  would  lead  us." 
But  before  the  conviction  of  the  forest  dwellers  that  the  forest  was 
without  end,  hope  faded'  out  of  the  hearts  of  the  natives  of  Stanley's 
company.  The  men  became  sodden  with  despair,  preaching  was 
useless  to  move  their  brooding  sullenness,  their  morbid  gloom. 

The  little  religion  they  knew  was  nothing  more  than  legendary  lore,  and  in' 
Iheir  memories  there*  dimly  floated  a  story  of  a  land  which  grew  darker  and 
darker  as  one  travelled  towards  the  end  of  the  earth  and  drew  nearer  to  the 
^lace  where  a  great  serpent  lay  supine  and  coiled  round  the  whole  world.  Ah ! 
then  the  ancients  must  have  referred  to  this,  where  the  light  is  so  ghastly,  and 
the  woods  are  endless,  and  are  so  still  and  solemn  and  grey ;  to  this  oppressive 
loneliness,  amid  so  much  life,  which  is  so  chilling  to  the  poor  distressed  heart ; 
and  the  horror  grew  darker  with  their  fancies  ;  the  cold  ot  early  morning,  the. 
comfortliess  grey  of  dawn,  the  dead  white  mist,  the  ever-dripping  tears  of  the 
dew,  the  deluging  rains,  the  appalling  thunder  bursts  and  the  echoes,  and  the 
wonderful  play  of  the  dazzling  lightning.  And  when  the  night  comes  with  its  thick 
palpable  darkness,  and  they  lie  huddled  in  their  damp  little  huts,  and  they  hear 
the  tempest  overhead,  and  the  howlmg  of  the  wild  winds,  the  grinding  and 
groaning  of  the  storm-tost  trees,  and  the  dread  sounds  of  the  falling  giants,  and 
the  shock  of  the  trembling  earth  which  sends  their  hearts  with  fitful  leaps  to 
their  throats,  and  the  roaring  and  a  rushing  as  of  a  mad  overwhelming  sea — 
oh,  then  the  horror  is  intensified  1  When  the  march  has  begun  once  again,  and 
the  filte  are  slowly  moving  through  the  woods,  they  renew  their  morbid 
broodings,  and  ask  themselves :  How  long  is  this  to  last  ?  Is  the  joy  of  life  to 
end  thus  ?  Must  wc  jog  on  day  after  day  in  this  cheerless  gloom  and  this 
joyless  duskiness,  until  we  stagger  and  fall  and  rot  among  the  toads  ?  Then 
they  disappear  into  the  woods  by  twos,  and  threes,  and  sixes ;  and  after  the 
caravan  has  passed  they  return  by  the  trail,  some  to  reach  Yambuya  and  upset 
the  young  officers  with  their  tales  of  woe  and  war ;  some  to  fall  sobbing  under 
a  spear-thrust ;  some  to  wander  and  stray  in  the  dark  mazes  of  the  woods,  hope- 
lessly lost ;  and  some  to  be  carved  for  the  cannibal  feast.  And  those  who  Yemain 
compelled  to  it  ^y  fr  :rs  of  greater  danger,  mechanically  march  on,  a  prey  to 
dread  and  weakness. 

That  is  the  forest.: .  But  what  of  its  denizens  ?^They  are  com- 
paratively few*;  only  soitie  hundreds  of  thousands  living  in  small 
tribes  from  teh  to  thirty  ftiiles  apart,  scattered  ov6r  an  area  on 
which  t^Q  tS^busand  imllioh  trees  put  out  the  sun  from  a  region  four 


tHE    AFRICAN    PARALLEL^^ 


•Hi 


dt 


assionately,  and 
'ed  their  hands 
trees,  trees  and 
ng  their  crowns 
the  other,  until 

Wence ;  forty 
through  the 
lid  lead  us." 
le  forest  was 
of  Stanley's 
caching  was 
loom. 

y  lore,  and  in' 
w  darker  and 
nearer  to  the 
'  world.    Ah  f 
)  ghastly,  and 
lis  oppressive 
ressed  heart ; 
morning,  the. 
I  tears  of  the 
noes,  and  the 
with  its  thick 
md  they  hear 
grinding  and 
g  giants,  and 
itful  leaps  to 
Jming  sea— 
e  again,  and 
heir  morbid 
oy  of  life  to 
tn  and  this 
»ds?    Then 
nd  after  the 
a  and  upset 
>bing  under 
oods,  hope- 
vho  l-emain 
>  a  prey  to 

are  corn- 
in  small 
area  on 
g^ion  four 


t-,--. .} 


times- 'as  wide  as  Great'  Britain. ;;  Of  these  -  pygmies  there  are  two 
kinds ;  one  a  very  degraded  specimen  with  ferretlike  eyes,  dose-set 
nose,  more  nearly  approaching  the  baboon  than  was  supposed  to  be 
possible,  but  very  human;  the  other  very  handsome,  with  frank 
open  innocent  features,  very  prepossessing.  They  are  quick  and 
intelligent,"  capable  of  deep  affection  and  gratitude,  showing  re- 
markable industry  and  patience,  i:  A  pygmy  boy  of  eighteen  worked 
witbii  consuming  zeal ;  time  with  him  was  too  precious  to  waste  in 
talk. '  His  mJnd  seemed  ever  concentrated  on  work.    Mr.  Stanley  said  : 

/^  When  I  opce  stopped  him  to  ask  him  his  name,  his  face  seemed 
to^say,  .*  Please  don't  stop  me. ;  I  must  finish  my  task.* 

/*  All  alike,  the  baboon  variety  and  the  handsome  innocents,  are 
canhibalsii^4They  are  possessed  with"  a  perfect  mania  for  meat.  We 
were  obliged  to  bury  our  dead  in  the  river,  lest  the  bodies  should  be 
exhumed  and  eaten,  even  when  they  had  died  from  smallpox." 

Upon  the  pygmies  and  all  the  dwellers  of  the  forest  has  descended 
a  devastating  visitation  jn  the  shape  of  the  ivory  raiders  of  civilisa- 
tiotti  TlJ^race  that  wrote  the  Arabian  Nights,  built  Bagdad  and 
Graij^da^'aild  invented  Algebra,  sends  forth  men  with  the  hunger  for 
gold  in  their  hearts,  and  Enfield  muskets  in  their  hands,  to  plunder 
and'ttir slay. l-  They  exploit  the  domestic  affections  of  the  forest 
dwellers  in  order  to  strip  them  of  all  they  possess  in  the  world.  That 
has  b^ii  going  on  for  years,  j^  It  is  going  on  to-day.  It  has  come  to 
be^  regarded  as  the  natural  and  normal  law  of  existence.  Of  the 
refigion*  of/these  hunted  pygmies  Mr.  Stanley  tells  us  nothing, 
perhaps' because  there  is  nothing  to  tell. '  But  an  earlier  traveller. 
Dr.'  Kfaff,  says  that  bne  of  these  tribes,  by  name  Doko,  had  some 
notion  of  a  Supreme  Being,  to  ^hom, "under  the  name  of  Yer,  they 
sometinies  addressed  prayers  in  moments  of  sadness  or  terror,  in 
these^*prayers  they  say;  "Oh"  Yer,  if  Thou  dost  really  exist  why 
dost  Thou  let  us  be  slaves  ?  ^  We  ask  not  for  food  or  clothing,  for 
we  live  on  snakes,  ants,  and' mice.  Thou  hast  made  us.  wherefore 
dost  Thou  let  us  be  trodden  down  ?  ", 

^U  is  a  terrible  picture,  and  one  that  has  engraved  itself  deep  on 
the  heart  of  civilisation.  ^:.  But  while  brooding  over  the  awful 
pre&entklion  of  life  as  it  exists  in  the  vast  African  forest,  it  seemed  to 
me  only  too  vivid  a  picture  of  many  parts  of  our  own  land.  As 
there^,  is  .ar^  darkest -Africa  is  there  not  also  a  darkest  England? 
Civilisation^^ which  can  breed  its  own  barbarians,  does  it  not  also 
brieed.  kalown  pyginies  ?  _  May  we  not .  find  a  parallel  at  ovir.  own 


12 


WHY    "DARKEST    ENGLAND"? 


^t 


O 


•: 


doors,  and  discover  within  a  stone's  throw  of  our  cathedrals  and 
palaces  similar  horrors  to  those  which  Stanley  has  found  existing 
in  the  great  Equatorial  forest  ? 

The  more  the  mind  dwells  upon  the  subject,  the  closer  the  analogy 
appears.    The  ivory  raiders  who  brutally  traffic  in  the  unfortunate 
denizens  of  the  forest  glades,  what  are  they  but  the  publicans  who 
flourish  on  the  weakness  of  our  poor  ?    The  two  tribes  of  savages, 
the  human  baboon  and  the  handsome  dwarf,  who  will  not  speak 
lest    it  impede  him  in   his  task,    may  be    accepted   as  the  two 
varieties  who  are  continually  present  with  us — the  vicious,  lazy 
lout,  and  the  toiling  slave.     They,  too,  have  lost  all  faith  of  life 
being  other  than  it  is  and  has  been.    As  in  Africa,  it  is  all  trees, 
trees,  trees  with  no  other  world  conceivable ;  so  is  it  here — it  is  all 
vice  and  poverty  and  crime.     To  many  the  world  is  all  slum,  with 
the  Workhouse  as  an  intermediate  purgatory  before  the  grave.     And 
just  as  Mr.  Stanley's  Zanzibaris  lost  faith,  and  could  only  be  induced 
to  plod  on  in  brooding  suUenness  of  dull  despair,  so  the  most  of  our 
social  reformers,  no  matter  how  cheerily  they  may  have  started  off, 
with  forty  pioneers  swinging  blithely  their  axes  as  they  force  their 
way  into  the  wood,  soon  become  depressed  and  despairing.     Who 
can  battle  against  the  ten  thousand  million  trees  ?     Who  cAn  hope  to 
make  headway  against  the  innumerable   adverse  conditions   which 
doom  the  dweller  in  Darkest  England  to   eternal   and    immutable 
misery  ?     What  wonder  is  it  that  many  of  the  warmest  hearts  and 
enthusiastic  workers  feel  disposed  to  repeat  the  lament  of  the  old 
English  chronicler,  who,  speaking  of  the  evil  days  which  fell  upon 
our  forefathers  in  the  reign  of  Stephen,  said  "  It  seemed  to  them  as 
if  God  and  his  Saints  were  dead."  — 

An  analogy  is  as  good  as  a  suggestion  ;  it  becomes  wearisome 
when  it  is  pressed  too  far.  But  before  leaving  it,  think  for  a  moment 
how  close  the  parallel  is,  and  how  strange  it  is  that  so  much  interest 
should  be  excited  by  a  narrative  of  human*  squalor  and  human 
heroism  in  a  distant  continent,  while  greater  squalor  and  heroism 
not  less  magnificent  may  be  observed  at  our  very  doors. 
'  The  Equatorial  Forest  traversed  by  Stanley  resembles  that  Darkest 
England  of  which  I  have  to  speak,  alike  in  its  vast  extent — both  stretch, 
in  Stanley's  phrase,  "as  far  as  from  Plymouth  to  Peterhead ;"  its  mono- 
tonous darkness,  its  malaria  and  its  gloom,  its  dwarfish  de-humanized 
inhabitants,  the  slavery  to  which  they  are  subjected,  their  privations 
and  their  misery.     That  which  sickens  the  stoutest  heart,  and  causes 


ledrals  and 
nd  existing 

he  analogy 
infortunate 
licans  who 
f  savages, 
not  speak 
the  two 
ious,  lazy 

h  of  life 

all  trees, 
—it  is  all 
lum,  with 
ve.  And 
-  induced 
)st  of  our 
arted  off, 
»rce  their 

.     Who 

hope  to 
s  which 
imutable 
irts  and 
the  old 
ill  upon 
hem  as 

irisome 
noment 
interest 
human 
eroism 

►arkest 
tretch, 
mono- 
mized 
ations 
:auses 


THE    SLOUGH    OF    DESPOND.  OF    OUR    TIMEX  lISj 


£: 


many  of  our  bravest  and  best  to ;  fold  their  hands  in  despair/is  the 
apparent  impossibility  of  doing  more  than  merely,  to  .peck  vat- the 
outside  of  the  endless  tangle  of 'monotonous  ^undergrowth;;  to' let 
light  into  it,  to  make  a  road  clear  througlr  it,  that  «hall  notvbe  immj^ 
diately  choked  up  by  the  ooze  of  the  morass  and  the  luxuriant. pat a^ 
sitical  growth  of  the  forest — who  dare  iiope  for  that  ?  At  present^ 
alas,  it  would  seem  as  though  no  one  dares  even  to  hope !  It  is  the 
great  Slough  of  Despond  of  our  time. 

And  what  a  slough  it  is  no  man  can  gauge  who  has  not  waded 
therein,  as  some  of  us  have  done,  up  to  the  very  neck  for  long  3'ears. 

Talk  about  DjUit^s^JAfiiUaadJ^^ 

torture-chamber  of  the  lost !     The  man  who  walks  with,  gpgn  eyes 
and  witH  nBlee^ing^h'earf  tKrbuglV  the  shamHtes 'of,^<gy]^  i;|.)^^§g^ 
nee3s  ri'd  -St»tb>ftHirist!e  images  6f  Xhf^^pocT  to^igijc|\ Jiii»  .boriw^* 
Often  ariH^ofterr  whcnl  liave  seefi  Ihe-  voting  and  the  poor  and  the 
helpless  go  down  before  my  eyes  into  the  morass,  trampled  underfoot 
by  ^beasts  o£ ]>rey  in  huind^n  sliap^  thaniaunt  th9sc  retj;ions.  i^  ?ccip9^1 

were  no  longer  nT  Mis  worlcj,  but  that  in  His  stead  r^jgupd 

a  fi^ndnrnerclTe^'^^  no  doubt, 

to  read  m  Stanley  s  pages  of  the  slave-traders  coldly  arranging  for 
the  surprise  of  a  village,  the  capture  of  the  inhabitants,  the  massacre 
of  those  who  resist,  and  the  violation  of  all  tlic  women';  but  the  stony 
streets  of  London,  if  they  could  but  speak,  would  tell  of  tragedies  as 
awful,  of  ruin  as  complete,  of  ravishments  as  horrible,  as  if  wc  were 
in  Central  Africa;  only  the  ghastly  devastatioi)  is  covered,  corpse- 
like,  withjh^^jirtificialities  and  iiypocrisies  of  modern  civiJi^iyLiQQ 

TnTioTof  a  negrcss'^ffiitfrirquatoMt  F6r<*frlS  ifoC^^^  very 

happy  one,  but  is  it  so  very  much  worse  than  that  of  many  a  pretty 
orphan  girl  in  our  Christian  capital  ?.  We  talk  about  the  brutalities 
of  the  dark  ages,  and  we  profess  to  shudder  as  wc  read  in  books  of 
the  shameful  exaction  of  the  rights  of  feudal  superior.  And  yet  here, 
beneath  our  very  eyes,  in  our  theatres,  in  our  restaurants,  and  in  many 
other  places",  unspeakable  though  it  be  but  to  name  it,  the  same  hideous 
abuse  flourishes  unchecked.  A  young  penniless  girl,  if  she  be  pretty, 
is  often  hunted  from  pillar  to  p^t^Jieremployers,^^illr6^^^^ 

^y"^|e3SsEPiDxeEE§^'^o£SiJ^  the  poorgtpnras 

consented  to  buy  the  right  to  earn  her  living  by  the  sacrifice  of  her 
virtue, -then    she   is    treated    as  a    slave  and  an   outcast  by  the 
cvry-men   who  have   ruined   her.       Her  word   becomes  unbclicv 
able,    her    life     an -.i ignominy,    and ..  shc;    i8iij»\v.c|>t;i;Ldownvvard 


••"  \ 


)  (■ 


u 


WHW"  DARKEST   ENGLAND  "  T 


.'^■V.. 


...  v ." 


ever. downward,  into  the  bottomless  perdition  cf  prostitution.  But 
there,  even  in  the  lowest  depths,  excommunicated  by  Humanity  and 
.outcast  from  God,  she  is  ifar  nearer  the  pitying  heart  of  the  One  true 
Saviour  than  all  the  men  whn  forced  her  down,  aye,  and  than  all  the 
Pharisees  "and  Scribes  who  stand  silently  by  while  these  fiendish 
wrongs  are  perpetrated  before  their  very  eyes. 

The  blood  boils  with  impotent  rage  at  the  sight  of  these  enormities, 
callously  inflicted,  and  silently  borne  by  these  miserable  victims. 
Nor  is  it  only  women  who  are  the  victims,  although  their  fate  is  the 
most  tragic.  Those  firms  which  i:g4u6Aj;sX£aliGg  to  a Jine  art,  who 
sy«tematicallj^_^and]^^il3^afl^,j(i^^  workman  of  his  pay, 

wfio^gfindTthe  faces  of  thenojorjand  who  rob  the^widoW  andthc 
orphan.  anownoJor  a^jaretence  make  great  professions  oj  public- 
spint'and  philanthropy,  these  men  nowadays  are  sent  to  Parliament 
tomakeTaws  for  the  peoplei.The.fiLlii  prophets  sent  them  to  Hell — 
btiji^e  have  changed  all  that.^  They  send  their  victims  to  Hell,  and 
are  revd^rded-by  all  thatwealth  can  do  to  make  their  lives  comfortable. 
Read  the  Houseof  Lords'  Report  on  the  Sweating  System,  and  ask  if 
any  African  slave  system,  making  due  allowance  lor  the  superior  civili- 
sation, and  therefore  sensitiveness,  of  the  victims,  reveals  more  misery. 

Darkest  England,  like  Darkest  Africa,  reeks  with  malaria.  ^The 
foul  and  letid  breath  of  our  slums  is  almost  as  poisonous  as  that  of 
the^African  swamp.  .  Fever  is  almost  as  chronic  there  as  on  the 
Equator."-  'Every  year  thousands  of  children  are  killed  off  by  what  is 
called-,  defects  of  our  sanitary  system.  '  They  are  in  reality  starved 
andf. poisoned,  and  all  that  can  be  said  is  that,  in  many  cases,  it  is 
bettcfrlor  them  that  they  were  taken  away  Iropi  the  trouble  to  come. 

Jiist  as  dn^  Darkest  Africa  it  is  only  a  part  of  the  evil  and  misery 
that  comes  h'ojn  ^the  superior  race  who  invade  the  forest  to  enslave 
and 'massacre  its  miserable  inhabitants,  so  with  us,  much  of  the 
misery'^f  those  whose  lot  we  are  considering  arises  from  their  own 
habits.'^Drunkenhess  and  all  manner  of  uncleanness,  moral  and 
physical/^bound.  tHave  you  ever  watched  by  the  bedside  of  a  man 
in  delinum  tremens  ?/T.Multiply  the  sufferings  of  that  one  drunkard 
by^the  hundred  thousand,  and  you  have  some  idea  of  what  scenes 
are  .being  witnei^sed  *'m  all  our  great  cities  at  this  moment.  Asjn 
Africa'fJstreamsJ, intersect  the  forest  in  every  dtgaction^  bo 
shJJJpt-stanijoja  corner  ivith  its-Rivww^oiLUlfi/wa^ptl^Death 

ii^/mjP^evcntec^^  out  (rf  the  twenty'^wirlor  the  desbrbction 


trivM"HnnE7"steeped['7n  vice- 


A    LIGHT    BEYOND. 


II? 


>stitution.     But 

Humanity  and 

)f  the  One  true 

nd  than  all  the 

these  fiendish 

Jse  enormities, 
arable  ^-ictims. 
leir  fate  is  the 

1  of"  his  pay. 
gStranTthc 
OS^of^pubfic- 
to  Parliament 
Jem  toHell— 
to  Hell,  and 
i  comfortable. 
™,  and  ask  if 
jperiorcivili- 
more  misery, 
alaria.   ,The 
us  as  that  of 
-  as  on  the 
fif  by  what  is 
ility  starved 
cases,  it  is 
We  to  come, 
and  misery 
t  to  enslave 
uch  of  the 
n  their  own 
moral  and 
e  of  a  man 
i  drunkard 
'hat  scenes 
nt.    As  in 

!;^Death 
lesppUction 
3*7n  vice- 


eaterfiup  by  every  social  and  physical  malady,' these -arc'thc 'denizens' 
of  Darkest  England  amidst  whom* my- life  has  been  spent,\'and^ to 
whose  rescue  I  would  now  summon  tall  ^^hat.i^jssijjx.them^hhond 
and  ^womanhood  of  our  land.  . 

■But  this  book  is  no  mere  lamentation-:of  ■despair." '^.ForiDarkcst 
England,  as  for  Darkest  Africa,  there -is.  a  light  beyond.  .;  I  think 
I  see  my  way  out,  a  way  by  which  these, wretched  ones  may  escape 
from  the  gloom  of  their  miserable  existence.into  a  higher  and  happier 
life.  Long  wandering  in  the  Forest  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  at  our 
doors,  has  familiarised  me  with  its  horrors  ;,  but  while  the  realisation 
is*  a  vigorous  spur  to  action  it  has  never  been  so  oppressive  as  to 
extinguish  hope.  Mr.  Stanley  never  succumbed  to  the  terrors  which 
oppressed  his  followers.  He  had  lived  in  a  larger  life,  and' knew 
that^'the  forest,  though  long,  was  not  interminable.  Every  step 
forward  brought  him  nearer  his  destined  goal,  nearer  to  the  light  of 
the  sun,  the  clear  sky,  and  the  rolling  uplands  of  the  grazing  land. 
Therefore  he  did  not  despair.  The  Equatorial  Forest  was,  after  all, 
a  mere  comer  of  one  quarter  of  the  world.  In  the  knowledge  of  the 
light  outside,  in  the  confidence  begotten  by  past  experience  of  sue-, 
cessful  endeavouf,  he  pressed  forward  ;  and  when  the  i6o  days^ 
struggle  was  over,  he  and  his  men  came  out  into  a  pleasant  place 
;\*liere  the  land  smiled  with  peace  and  plenty,  and  their  hardships 
and  hunger  were  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  a  great  deliverance. 

So  I  venture  to  believe  it  will  be  with  us.  But  the  end  is  not  yet. 
We  are  still  in  the  depths  of  the  depressing  gloom.  It  is  in  no  spirit 
of  light-heartedness  that  this  book  is  sent  forth,  into  the  world 
as  if  it  was  written  some  ten  years  ago. 

If  this  were  the  first  time  that  this  wail  of  hopeless  misery  had 
sounded  on  our  cars  the  matter  would  have  been  less  serious.  It  is 
because  we  have  heard  it  so  often  that  the  case  is  so  desperate. 
The  exceeding  bitter  cry  of  the  disinherited  has  become  to.be  as 
faiiuliai^.iiLUliLUia.^01E51S^TT1^  the 


And^so  It  rises  unceasing, 


iw-'anine.  of  the  wind  through  the  trees 


rammzn-MWictin  ■iaas.vim.jf  ■ 


year  in  and  year  but,  and  we'are'too^usy  or  too  idle,  too  indifferent 
or  too  selfish,  to  spare  it  a  thought.  Only  now  and  then,  on  rare  occa- 
sions, when  some  clear  voice  is  heard  giving  more  articulate  utterance 
to  the  miseries  of  the  miserable  men,  do  we  pause  in  the  regular  routine 
of  our  daily  duties,  and  shudder  as  we  realise  for  one  brief  moment 
what  life  means  to  the  inmates  of  the  Slums.  But  one  of  the  grimmest 
social  prpblqins  of  our  time  should  be  sternly  faced,  not  jwiiha^je^ 


S^BBS 


16 


WHY   "  DARKEST    ENGLAND  "  ? 


i\ 


to ,  the  generation  of  profitless  emotion,  but  with  a  view  to  its 
solution. 

Is  it  not  time?  There  is,  it  is  true,  ah  audacity, in  the  mere 
suggestion  that  the  problem  is  nnt  insoluble  that  is  enough  to.  take 
away  the  breath.  But  can  nothing  be  done?  'If,  after  full,  and 
exhaustive  consideration,  we  come  to  the  deliberate  conclusion 
that  nothing  can  be  done,  and  that  it  is  the  inevitable  and  inexorable 
destiny  of  thousands  of  Englishmen  to  be  brutalised  into  worse  than 
beasts  by  the  condition  of  their  environment,  so  be  it.  But  if,  on  the 
contrary,  we  are  unable  to  believe  that  this  "  awfur  slough,"  which 
engulfs  the  manhood  and  womanhood  of  generation  after  generation, 
is  incapable  of  removal ;  and  if  the  heart  and  intellect  of  mankind  alike 
revolt  against  the  fatalism  of  despair,  then,  indeed,  it  is  time,  and  high 
time,ttvat  the  question  were  faced  in  no  mere  dilettante  spirit,  but  with  a 
resolute  determination  to  make  an  end  of  the  crying  scandal  of  our  age, 

What  a  satire  it  is  upon  our  Christianity  and  bur  civilisation j 
that  the  existence  of  these  colonies  of  heathens  and  savages- in*  the 
heart  of  our  capital  should  attract  so  little  attention  1  It  isjiaJjfit^ 
than  a  ghastly  mockery — theologians  might  use  a  stronger  Vord-^tb 
call  fiy^^^rSrffF^oTjnne^^^ca 

was  lpsyhq§^^JQ\«.JXhesjd£3^  midsf"^' IbsV multitudes  either 

sleep  ln..aaaUw>i>K''^it&l>la\e«a«^ful^interest  in  a  chasuble.^  Why  all 
this  apparatus  of  temples  and  meeting-lTouses  to  save. men-  from 
perdition  in  a  world  which  is  to  come,  while  never  a  helping  hand  is 
stretched  out  to  sava  them  from  the  inferno  of  their  present  life?  Is 
it  not  time  that,  forgetting  for  a  moment  their  wranglirigs  about  tha 
infinitely  little  or  infinitely  obscure,  they  should  concentrate  all  theic 
energies  on  a  united  effort  to  break  this,  terrible  perpetuity  pC 
perdition,  end  to  rescue  some  at  least  of. those' foe  wbonfi  th^y 
profess  to  believe  their  Founder  came  to  die  i 

Before,  venturing  to  define  the  remedy,  I"  begin  by  aescribing  tjie 
malady.  But  even  when  presenting  the  dreary  picture  of  oursdcial 
ills,  and  describing  the  difficulties  which  confront  us,  I  speakl  not 
in  despondency  but  in  hope.  "I  know  in  v^hom  I  have. believed.'' 
1  know,  therefore  do  I  speak.  Darker  England  is  but  a  fractional 
part  of^f^Greater  England."  There  is  wealth  enough  abundantly  to 
ministe.^;toJts  social  regeneration  so  far  as  wealth  "can,  if  there  be 
buf  KeartVecpugh.to  set  about  the  work  in  earnest.  And  I  hope'and 
believe  that' the  heart  "will  not  be  lacking  when  once  the  problei|fti& 
tnaofully^f^ced,^^  ^d.the  method  of  its^splution  pkioly  p<^iMWk. 


a  view  to  its 


^»n  the  mere 
lough  tQ  take 
after  full,  and 
te    conclusion 
md  inexorable 
to  worse  than 
But  if,  on  the 
lough,"  which 
r  generation, 
nankind  alike 
ime,  and  high 
rit,  but  with  a 
'al  of  our  age, 
'  civilisatiohj 
Images- in*  the 
isnobpfr^/»r 

erVord-^tb 
I^ISlOQlich 
Lfe  either 
'•     Why  all 
nien-  from 
ing  hand  is 
nt  life  ?    Is 
>  about  th2 
te  all  their 
petuit^  of 
'hbiis  th^y 

ribiiig  tjie 
our  social 
speak  not 
believed.'^ 
fractional 
dantly  to 
there  be 
^opeand 
■oblertitia 
cTSOk 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  SUBMERGED  TENTH. 

In  setting  forth  the  difficulties  which  have  to  be  grappled  with,  I 
shall  endeavour  in  all  things  to  understate  rather  than  overstate  my 
case.  I  do  this  for  two  reasons :  first,  any  exaggeration  would  create 
a  reaction  ;  and  secondly,  as  my  object  is  to  demonstrate  the  prac- 
ticability, of  solving  the  problem,  I  do  not  wish  to  magnify  its 
dimensions.  In  this  and  in  subsequent  chapters  I  hope  to  convince 
those  who  read  them  that 'there  is  no  overstraining  in -the 
representation  of  the  facts,  and  nothing  Utopian  in  the  presentation 
of  remedies.  I  appeal  neither  to  hysterical  emotionalists  nor  head- 
long enthusiasts ;  but  having  tried  to  approach  the  examination  of 
this  (question  in  a  spirit  of  scientific  investigation,  I  put  forth' my 
proposals  witii  the  view  of  securing  the  support  and  co-operatioh  ot 
the  sober,  serious,  practical  men  and  women  who  constitute  the  saving 
strength  and  moral  backbone  of  the  country.  I  fully  admit  that  there 
is  much  that  is  lacking  in  the  diagnosis  of  the  disease,  and,  no  doubt, 
in  this  first  draft  of  the  prescription  there  is  much  room  for  improve- 
ment, which  will  come  when  we  have  the  light  of  fuller  experience. 
But  with  all  its  drawbacks  and  defects,  I  do-  not  hesitate  to  submit 
my  proposals  to  the  impartial  judgment  of  all  who  are  interested  in 
the  solution  of  the  social  question  as  an  immediate  and  practical  mode 
of  dealing  with  this^  the  greatest  problem  of  our  time. 

The  first  duty  of  an  investigator  in  approaching  the  study  of  any 
question  is  to  eliminate  all  th^t  is  fore';_,n  to  the  inquiry,  and  to 
concentrate  his  attention  upon  the  subject  to  be  dealt  with.  Here  I 
mayjremark  that  I  make  no  attempt  in  this  book  to  deal  with  Society 
as  "^^hole.  I  leave  to  others  the  formulation  of  ambitious  pro- 
grammes for  the  reconstruction  of  our  entire  social  system ;  not 
because  I  may  not  desire  its  reconstruction,  but  because  the 
elaboration  of  any  plans, which   are   more  or  less  visionary  and 


\iS- 


-Hi 


.■Ul 


18 


^ 


THE    SUBMERGED 


TENTK. 

rA- 


incapable  of  realisation  for  many  years  would  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  consideration  of  this  Scheme  for  dealing  with  the  most  urgently 
pressing  laspect  of  the  question,  which  I  hope  mav  be  put  into 
operation  at  once: 

In  taking  thisNS)urse  I  am  aware  that  I  cut  myself  off  from  a  wide 
land  attractive  ;  field ;  but  as  a  practical  man,  dealing  with  sternly 
prosaic  factsi;-^^  1 1  must  confine  my  attention  to  that  particular 
section  of '  the  problem  which  clamours  most  pressingly  for 
a '-solution.  *  Only  one  thing  I  may  say  in  passing.  There 
is  nothing  in  my  scheme  which  will  bring  it  into  collision  either  with 
Socialists  of  the  State,  or  Socialists  of  the  Municipality,  with  In- 
dividualists or  Nationalists,  or  any  of  the  various  schools  of  thought 
in  the  great,  field  of  social  economics — excepting  only  those  anti- 
Christian  economists  who  hold  that  it  is  an  offence  against  the 
Hoctrine  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  to  try  to  save  the  weakest 
from  going  to  the  wall,  and  who  believe  that  when  once  a  man  is 
down  the  supreme  duty  of  a  self-regarding  Society  is  to  jump  upon 
him.  Such  economists  will  naturally  be  disappointed  with  this  book. 
I  venture  to  believe  that  all  others  will  find  nothing  in  it  to 
offend"? their  favourite  theories,  but  perhaps  something  of  helpful 
suggestion  which  they  may  utilise  hereafter. 

What,  then,  is  Darkest  England  ?  For  whom  do  we  claim  that 
*'  urgency  "  which  gives  their  case  priority  over  that  of  all  other 
sections  of  their  countrymen  and  countrywomen  ? 

I  claim  it  for  the  Lost,  for  the  Outcast,  for  the  Disinherited  of  the 
World. 

These,'  it*  may  be  said,  are  but  phrases.  Who  are  the  Lost  ?  I 
reply,  not  in  a  religious,  but  in  a  social  sense,  the  lost  are  those 
who  have  gone  under,  who  have  lost  their  foothold  in  Society,  those 
to  whom  the  prayer  to  our  Heavenly  Father,  "  Give  us  day  by  day 
our  daily  bread,"  is  either  unfulfilled,  or  only  fulfilled  by  the  Devil's 
agency:  by  the  earnings  of  vice,  the  proceeds  of  crime,  or  the 
contribution  enforced  by  the  threat  of  the  law. 

But  I  will  be  more  precise.  The  denizens  in  Darkest  England, 
for  whom  I  appeal,  are  (i)  those  who,  having  no  capital  or  income  of 
their- own,  would  in  a"  month  be  dead  from  sheer  starvation  were  they 
exclusively  dependent  upon  the  money  earned  by  their  own  work ; 
and  (2)  those  who  by  their  utmost  exertions  are  unable  to  attain 
the.  regulation  allowance  of  food  which  the  law  prescribes  SA  indis- 
\>en8able  even  for  the  worst  criminals  in  our  gaols. 


in  the  way  of 

most  urgently 

be  put  into 

r  from  a  wide 
with  sternly 
at    particular 
essingly    for 
ing.      There 
n  either  with 
ity,  with   In- 
»ls  of  thought 
those  anti- 
against  the 
the  weakest 
ce  a  man  is 
0  jump  upon 
ith  this  book, 
ling  in  it    to 
ig  of  helpful 

'e  claim  that 
of  all  other 

lerited  of  the 

he  Lost?  I 
3t  are  those 
ociety,  those 
day  by  day 
y  the  Devil's 
ime,  or  the 

ist  England, 
or  income  of 
>n  were  they 
own  work; 
ble  to  attain 
€s  as  India- 


THE   CAB   HORSE   IDEAL   OF   EXISTENCE. 


19 


I  sorrowfully  admit  that  it  would  be  Utopian  in  our  present  social 
arrangements  to  dream  of  attaining  for  every  honest  Englishman  a 
gaol  standard  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life.  Some  time,  perhaps,  we 
may  venture  to  hope  that  every  honest  worker  "ori  Eng'irsR"s6TI  will 
always^  be  as  warnily  cTadTas  healthily  housed,  ami  as  regnfariy  fed  as 
our  criminal  Svfcfs"— "Bui  tfians'not' yet^ 

Neither  is  it^pbssiBteto  hop^Tor  many  years  to  come  that  human 
beings  generally  will  be  as  well  cared  for  as  horses.  /  Mr.  Carlyle 
long  ago  remarked  that  the  four-footed  worker  has  already  got  all 
that  this  two-handed  one  is  clamouring  for  :  "  There  are  not  many 
horses  in  England,  able  and  willing  to  work,  whicTTiirWirertrafe 
fooJ'aiwt iilwtgiiig ■  ai'id'  1^'  iWlfettt" aleek  t'oatodj-wrtTsficd'^n-hearfe^' 
You  say  it  is  impossible ;  but,  said  Carlyle,  "The  human  brain,  rddicing 
at  these  sleek  English  horses,  refuses  to  believe  in  such  impossibility 
for  English  men."  Nevertheless,  forty  years  have  passed  since 
Carlyle  said  that,  and  we  seem  to  be  no  nearer  the  attainment  of  the 
four-footed  standard  for  the  two-handed  worker.  "  Perhaps  it  might 
be  nearer  realisation,"  growls  the  cynic,  "  if  we  could  only  produce 
men  according  to  demand,  as  we  do  horses,  and  promptly  send  them 
to  the  slaughter-house  when  past  their  prime  " — which,  of  course,  is 
not  to  be  thought  of. 

What,  then,  is  the  standard  towards  which  we  may  venture  to  aim 
with  some  prospect  of  realisation  in  our  time?  It  is  a  very  humble 
one,  but  if  realised  it  would  solve  the  worst  problems  of  modern  Society. 

It  is  the  standard  of  the  London  Cab  Horse. 

When  Mmestrcett'^TCohciorra'  ^l^B'llorse,  weary  or  careless  or 
stupid,  trips  and  falls  and  lies  stretched  out  in  the  midst  of  the  traffic, 
there  is  no  question  of  debating  how  he  came  to  stumble  before  we 
try  to  get  him  on  his  legs  again.  The  Cab  Horse  is  a  very  real  illus- 
tration of  poor  broken-down  humanity;  he  usually  falls  down  because 
of  overwork  and  underfeeding.  If  you  put  him  on  his  feet  without 
altering  his  conditions,  it  would  only  be  to  give  him  another  dose  of 
agony ;  but  first  of  all  you'll  have  to  pick  him  up  again.  It  may  have 
been  through  overwork  or  underfeeding,  or  it  may  have  been  all  his 
own  fault  that  he  has  broken  his  knees  and  smashed  the  shafts,  but 
that  does  not  matter.  If  not  for  his  own  sake,  then  merely  in  order 
to  prevent  an  obstruction  of  the  traffic,  all  attention  is  concentrated 
upon  the  question  of  how  we  are  to  get  him  on  his  legs  again.  The 
load  is  taken  off,  the  harness  is  unbuckled,  or,  if  need  be,  cut,  and 
everything  is  done  to  help  him  up.    Then  he  is  put  in  the  shafts 


SBB 


}L0 


'THE~8UBMERGE0   TENTH. 


Again  and  :  once  :  more  restored  to  his  regular  round^ofAwork.' 
;That  is  the  first  point.  The  second  is  that  every  CabvHpr^V  in 
London  has  three  things  ;  a  shelter  for  the  night,  food  for  its  stomach, 
and  work  allotted  to  it  by  which  it  can  earn  its  corn. 

These  are  the  two  points  of  the  Cab  Horse's  Charter.  When 
he  is  doWn  he  is  helped  up,  and- while  he  lives  he  has  food,  shelter 
and  work.  ThaLalthough  a  humble  standard,  is  at  present 
absolutely  unattainable  by  millions — literally  by  miTIions — of  our 
fellow-men  and  won\e;3L.in.;-tJMa.  .country.  ,  C^  the  Cab'.  Horse 
Charter  be  gained  for  human  beings  ?  I  answer,  yes.  The  Cab 
Horse  standard  can  be  attained  on  the  Cab  Horse  terms.  .If  you 
get  your  fallen  fellow  on  his  feet  ajjain,.  Docility  and  Discipline  will 
enable  you  to  reach  the  Cab  Horse  ideal,  otherwise  it  will  remain 
unattainable.  But  Docility  seldom  fails  where  Discipline  is  intelli- 
gently maintained.  Intelligence  is  more  frequently  lacking  to  direct, 
than  obedience  to  follcw  direction.  At  any  rate  it  is  not  for  those 
who  possess  the  intelligence  to  despair  of  obedience,  until  they  have 
done  their  part.  Some,  no  doubt,  like  the  bucking  horse  that  will 
never  be  broken  in,  will  always  refuse  lO  submit  to  any  guidance  but 
their  own  lawless  will.  rhe>  will  remain  either  the  Ishmaels  or  the 
Sloths  of  Society.  Bui  man  is  naturally  neither  r.n  Ishmael  nor  a  Sloth. 

The  fir3t  question,  then,  which  confronts  us  is,  what  are  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  E"il?  How  many  of  our  fellow-men  dwell  in  this  Darkest 
England?  Kowcanwe  take  the  census  of  those  who  have  fallen  below 
the  Cab  Horse  standard  to  'vhi'',h  it  i?  our  aim  to  elevate  the  most 
Wi etched  of  our  countrymen? 

The  noment  you  juteinpt  to  ari's.wer  this  question,  you  are  con- 
fronted by  the  fact  that  the  Social  Problem  has  scarcely  been  studjed 
at  all  scientifically.  Go  to  Mudie's  and  ask  for  all  the  books  that 
have  been  written  on  the  subject,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  find 
how  few  there  are.  There  are  probably  more  scientific  ,  books 
treating  of  diabetes  or  of  gout  than  there  are  dealing  with  the  great 
social  malady  which  eats  out  the  vitals  of  such  numbers  of  our 
people.  Of  late  there  has  been  a  change  for  the  better.  The  Report 
of  the  Royal  Commission  on  the  Housing  of  the  Poor,  and  the  Report 
of  the  Cc«Anittee  of  the  House  of  Lords  on  Sweating,  represent  af-j 
attempt  at  least  to  ascertain  the  facts  v/hich  bear  upon  the  Condition 
of  the  People  question.  But,  after  all,  more  minute,  patient,  intelli- 
gent observation  has  been  devoted  to  the  study  of  Earthworms,  than" 
to  the  evolution,  or  rather  the  degradation,  oC^he  Sunken  SectioiKOf 


l;^of  hVirork.' 
>yHpr9e>in 
ts  sfomach, 

:r.    When 
Mxl,  shelter 
atjpresent 
is~pf  our 
'ab"  Horse 
The  Cab 
3.    .If  you 
M'pline  will 
rill  remain 
;  is  intelli- 
j  to  direct, 
t  for  those 
they  have 
e  that  will 
idance  but 
els  or  the 
or  a  Sloth, 
he  dimen- 
is  Darkest 
lien  below 
:  the  most 

I  are  con- 
:n  studied 
>ooks  that 
ed  to  find 
fie  books 
the  great 
rs  'of  our  " 
tie  Report 
le  Report 
resent  &ii 
Condition 
It,  intelli- 
rms,  than; 
iectiookof 


SOME    GHASTLY    FIGURES. 


21 


our  people.  Here  and  there  in  the  immense  field  individual  workers 
make  notes,  and  occasionally  emit  a  wail  of  despair,  but  where  js 
there  any  attempt  even  so  much  as  to  take  the  first  preliminary  ste0 
of  counting  those  who  have  gone  under  ? 

One  book  there  is,  and  so  far  as  I  know  at  present,  oniy  one,' 
which  even  attempts  to  enumerate  the  destitute.  In  his  "  Life  and 
Labour  in  the  East  of  London,"  Mr.  Charles  Booth  attempts  to  form 
some  kind  of  an  idea  as  to  the  numbers  of  those  with  whom  we  have 
to  deal.  With  a  large  staff  of  assistants,  and  provided  with  all  the 
facts  in  possession  of  the  School  Board  Visitors,  Mr.  Booth  took  an 
industrial  census  of  East  London.  This  district,  whibh  comprises 
Tower  Hamlets,  Shoreditch,  Bethnal  Green  and  Hackney,  contains 
a  population  of  908,000 ;  that  is  to  say,  less  than  one-fourth  of  the 
population  of  London. 

How  do  his  statistics  work  out  ?  If  we  estimate  the  number  of 
the  poorest  class  in  the  rest  of  London  as  being  twice  as  numerous 
as  those  in  the  Eastern  District,  instead  of  being  thrice  as  numerous, 
as  they  would  be  if  they  were  calculated  according  to  the  population 
in  the  same  proportion,  the  following  is  the  result  :  — 

Estimate  for 


PAUPERb 

j:.ast  L.ona 

°"        rest  of  London.         *""' 

Inmates  of  Workhouses,  Asylums, 

and  Hospitals       

17,000 

...       34.000 

...      '51,000 

Homeless 

Loafers,  Casuals,  and  some  Crim- 

inals            

11,000 

...       22,000 

...      33.0W 

Starving 

Casual   carnmgs  between  i8s.  per 

week  and  chronic  want   . . 

100,000 

...     200,000 

..,    300,000 

The  Very  Poor. 

Intermittent   earnings  i8s.  to  21s. 

per  week    ...        ...        ,,,        ,,, 

74,000 

...     148.000 

...    222.000 

Small  regular  earnings  i8s.  to  21s. 

fWi^  vKiBCK       •••             •••              •««              ««■ 

129,000 

...     25S.OOO 

...    387,000 

331,000 
Reguiar  wages,  artizans,  etc,  22s. 

to  30s.  per  wQek 377.00O 

Higher  tlass  labciur,  306.  to  50s.  per 

w«dc  I2I,0«0 

Lower   aiiddle  class.  sh«pk«eiiers. 

cleifcs,  «tc 34<oo0 

Upper  middle  class  [servant  keepers)     4S,oo» 

<.jafi8,oo& 


662)000 


993,txx} 


■li 


I 


iWiiitiBfe'i'in 


22  THE   SUBMERGED   TENTH.  / 

I.t>inay  be  admitted  that  East  London  aflfords  an  exceptioni^ly  bad 
district  from  which  to  generalise  for  the  rest  of  the  country.  Wages 
are  higher  in  London  than  elsewhere,  but  so  is  rent,  and  the  number 
of  the  homeless  and  starving  is  greater  in  the  human  warren  at  the 
East  End.  There  are  31  millions  of  people  in  Great  Britain, 
exclusive  of  Ireland.  '  If  destitution  existed  everywhere  in  East 
London  proportions,  there  would  be  3 1  times  as  many  homeless 
and  starving  people  as  there  are  in  the  district  round  Bethnal  Green. 

But  let  us  suppose  that  the  East  London  rate  is  double  the 
average  for  the  rest  of  the  country.  That  would  bring  out  the 
following  figures ; — 

Houseless 

East  London.         United  KinKdon. 
Loafers,  Casuals,  and  some  Criminals  ...  11,000    ......      165,500 

Starving 

Casual  earnings  or  chronic  want 100,000    1,550,000 

Total  Houseless  and  Starving        ...111,000    1,715,500 

In  Workhouses,  Asylums,  &C.  ...  17,000    190,000 

128,000  ii905,5oo 

Of  those  returned  as  homeless  and  starving.  870,000  were  in 
receipt  of  outdoor  relief. 

To  these  must  be  added  the  inmates  of  our  prisons.  In  1889, 
174,779  persons  were  received  in  the  prisons,  but  the  average 
number  in  prison  at  any  one  time  did  not  exceed  60,000.  The 
figures,  as  given  in  the  Prison  Returns,  are  as  follows  : — 

In  Convict  Prisons 11,660 

In  Local  Prisons 20,883 

In  Reformatories 1,270 

In  Industrial  Schools      21,413 

Cnminal  Lunatics          *  ...  910 

56,136; 
Add  to  this  the  number  of  indoor  paupers  and  lunatics  (excluding 
oiminals)  78,9667— and  we  have  an  army  of  nearly  two  •millions 
belongiiig  to  the  submergiid  cl,asses.  To  this  there  mjust  be  aickitd,. 
atthe  vety  ttkkt,  anbtbieF  nUlioii,  representing  those  d^>eRdeat  upon 
the  criminal,  hinatic  and  other  classes,  not  enumerated  here,  and  the 
more  or  less  helpless  of  the  class  immediately  above  the  houselees  and 
starving.  -This  brings  ipy total^o  three milUfins.or. Jo DUt.it roughly 


ptioni^ly  bad 
try.  Wages 
1  the  number 
warren  at  the 
reat  Britain, 
liere  in  East 
ny  homeless 
ithnal  Green, 
double  the 
ring  out  the 


!ted  Riniploin. 
165,500 


,550,000 

.715.500 
190,000 

,905,500 

00  were  in 

I.  In  1889, 
the  average 
0/JOO.    The 

1,660 
0,883 
1,270 

1.413 
910 

6,136; 

s  (excluding 
two  inillions 
3t  be  aidded,. 
endeat  upon 
ere,  and  the 
ouseleas  and 
it.it  rou|^y 


OESTITUTION--3.000.000   STRONG. 


sr 


to  one-tenth  of  the  population.  According  to  Lord  Brabazon  and  Mr. 
Samuel  Smith,  "between  two  and  three  millions  of  oun  population  arc 
always  pauperised  and  degraded."  Mr.  Chamberlain  says  there  is  a 
"population  equal  to  that  of  the  metropolis/' — that  is,  between  four 
and  five  millions — "  which  has  remained  constantly  in  a  state  of  abject 
destitution  and  misery."  Mr.  Giffen  is  more  moderate.  The  sub- 
merged clas'S)  according  to  him,  comprises  one  in  live  of  manual 
labourers,  six  in  100  of  the,  population.  .  Mr.  Giffen  does  not  add 
the  third  million  which  is  living  on  the  border  line.  Between  Mr. 
Chamberlain's  four  millions  and  a  half,  and  Mr.  Giffcn's  I,8oo,ocx3, 
I  am  content  to  take  three  millions  as  renrescnting  the  total' strength 
of  the  destitute  army. 

Darkest  England,  then,  may  oe  said  to  have  a  population  about 
equal  to  that  of  Scotland.  Three  million  men,  women,  and  children, 
a  vast  despairing  multitude  in  a  condition  nominally  free,  but  really 
enslaved  ; — these  it  is  whom  we  have  to  save. 

It  is  a  large  order.  England  emancipated  her  negroes  sixty  years 
ago,  at  a  cost  of  ;^40,ooo,ooo,  and  has  never  ceased  boasting  about  it 
since.  But  at  our  own  doors,  from  "  Plymouth  to  Peterhead," 
stretches  this  waste  Continent  of  humanity — three  million  human 
beings  who  are  enslaved — some  of  them  to  taskmasters  as  merciless 
as  any  West  Indian  overseer,  all  of  them  to  destitution  and  despair. 

Is  anything  to  be  done  with  them  ?  Can  anythinf^  be  done  for 
them?  Or  is  this  million-headed  mass  to  be  regarded  as  offering  a 
problem  as  insoluble  as  that  of  the  London  sewage,  which,  feculent  and 
festering,  swings  heavily  up  and  down  the  basin  of  the  Thames  with 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide  ? 

This  Submerged  Tenth — is  it,  then,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  nine- 
tenths  in  the  midst  of  whom  they  live,  and  around  whose  homes  they 
rot  and  die  ?  No  doubt,  in  every  large  mass  of  human  beings  there 
will  be  some  incurably  diseased  in  morals  and  in  body,  some  for 
whom  nothing  can  be  done,  some  of  whom  even  the  optimist  must 
despair,  and  for  whom  he  can  prescribe  nothing  but  the  bene- 
fi:cently  stern  restraints  of  an  asylum  or  a  gaol. 

But  is  not  one  in  ten  a  proportion  scandalously  high  ?  ,  The 
Israelites  of  old  set  apart  one  tribe  in  twelve  to  minister  to  the  Lord 
in  the  service  of  the  Temple ;  but  must  we  doom  one  in  ten  of 
"God's  Englishmen"  to  the  service  of  the  great  Twin  Devils- 
Destitution  and  Despair  ? 


,,..i|IWi«Willl»li 


■^r^"-"    """ 


I 


1' 


1.111,] 


i'-S- 


m 


'I'ii 


i\ 


CHAPTER  in. 
THE    HOMELESS. 

Darkest  England  may  be  described  as  consisting  broadly  of  three 
circles,  one  within  the  other.  The  outer  and  widest  circle  is 
inhabited  by  the  starving  and  the  homeless/ but  honest,  Poor.  The 
second  by  those  who  live  by  Vice  ;  and  the  third  and  innermost  region 
at  the  centre  is  peopled  by  those  who  exist  by  Crime.  The  whole  of 
the  three  circles  is  sodden  with  Drink.  Darkest  England  has  many 
more  public-houses  than  the  Forest  of  the  Aruwimi  has  rivers,  of 
which  Mr.  Stanley  sometimes  had  to  cross  three  in  half-an-hour. 
t'i  The  borders  of  this  great  lost  land  are  not  sharply  defined.  They 
are  continually  expanding  or  contracting.  Whenever  there  is  a 
period  of  depression  in  trade,  they  stretch  ;  when  prosperity  returns, 
they  contract.  So  far  as  individuals  are  concerned,  there  are  none 
among  the  hundreds  of  thousands  who  live  upon  the  out- 
skirts of  the  dark  forest  who  can  truly  say  that  they  or 
their  children  are  secure  from  being  hopelessly  entangled  in 
its  labyrinth.  The  death  of  the  bread-winner,  a  long  illness, 
a  failut'e  in  the  City,  or  any  one  of  a  thousand  other  causes 
wh!ch  might  be  named,  will  bring  within  the  first ,  circle 
those  who  at  present  Imagine  themselves  free  from  all  danger  of 
actual  want.  The  death-rate  in  Darkest  England  is  high.  Death 
is  the  great  gaol-deliverer  of  the  captives.  But  the  dead  are  hardly 
in  the  grave  before  their  places  arc  taken  by  others.  Some  escape, 
but  the  majority,  their  health  sapped  by  their  surroundings,  become 
weaker  and  weaker,  until  at  last  they  fall  by  the  way,  perishing 
without  hope  at  the  very  doors  of  the  oalatiai  mansions  which,  may- 
be, some  of  them  helped  to  build. 

Some  seven  years  ago  a  great  outcry  was  made  concerning  the 
Housiog  of  the  Poor.     Much  was  said,  and  rightly  said— it  could  .not 


LAZARUS   ON   THE   EMBANKMENT. 


25 


!ly  of  three 
St  circle  is 
Poor.  The 
most  region 
he  whole  of 
1  has  many 
s  rivers,  of 
ilf-an-hour. 
led.  They 
there  is  a 
ity  returns, 
e  are  none 

the  out- 
t  they  or 
tangled  in 
ng  illness, 
ler  causes 
irst^  circle 

danger  of 
jh.  Death 
are  hardly 
me  escape, 
gs,  become 
,  perishing 
hich,  may- 

erning  the 
t  could  .not 


destrpying  character  of  many  of  tht  tenements  in  which  the  poor 
nerd  in  our  large  cities.  But  there  is  a  deptli  below  that  of  the 
dweller  in  the  slums.  It  is  that  of  the  dweller  in  the  street,  who  has 
not  even  a  lair  in  the  slums  which  he  can  call  his  own.  The  house- 
less Out-of-Work  is  in  one  respect  at  least  like  Him  of  whom  it  was 
said,  "  Foxes  have  holes,  and  birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  the 
Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to  lay  His  head." 

The  existence  of  these  unfortunates  was  somewhat  rudely  forced 
upon  the  attention  of  Society  in  1887,  when  Trafalgar  Square  be- 
came the  camping  ground  of  the  Homeless  Outcasts  of  London. 
Our  Shelters  have  done  something,  but  not  enough,. to  provide  for 
the  outcasts,  who  this  night  and  every  night  arc  walking  about  the 
streets,  not  knowing  where  they  can  find  a  spot  on  which  to  rest 
their  weary  frames.  ,    ;       ' 

Here  is  the  return  of  one  of  my  Officers  who  was  told  off  this 
summer  to  report  upon  the  actual  condition  of  the  Homeless  who 
have  no  roof  to  shelter  them  in  all  London  : — 

There  are  still  a  large  number  of  Londoners  and  a  considerable  percentage 
of  wanderers  from  thej:ountry  in  search  of  work,  who  find  themselves  at  night- 
fs"l  '^.estitute.  These  now  betake  themselves  to  the  seats  under  the  plane  trees 
on  the  Embankment.  Formerly  they  endeavoured  to  occupy  all  the  seats,  but 
the  lynx-eyed  Metropolitan  Police  dcchned  to  allow  any  such  proceedmgs,  and 
the  dossers,  knowing  the  invariable  kindness  ot  the  City  Police,  mado  tracks  for 
that  portion  of  the  Embankment  which,  lying  east  of  the  Temple,  coincs  under 
the  control  of  the  Civic  Fathers.  Here,  between  the  Temple  and  Blackfnars,  I 
found  the  poor  wretches  by  the  sf'ore,  almost  every  scat  contained  its  full 
complement  of  six— some  men,  some  women— all  reclining  in  various  postures 
and  nearly  all  fast  asleep.  Just  as  Big  Ben  strikes  two,  the  moon, 
flasiiing  across  tht';  Thames  and  lighting  up  the  stone  work  of  thj 
Embankment,  brings  into  relief  a  pitiable  spectacle.  Here  on  the 
stone  cbutments,  which  afford  a  slight  protection  i"rom  the  biting  wind, 
are  scores  of  men  lying  side  by  side,  huddled  together  for  warmth, 
and,  of  course,  without  any  other  covering  than  their  ordinary  clothing, 
which  is  scanty  enough  at  the  best.  Some  have  laid  down  a  few  pieces  of 
waste  paper,  by  way  of  taking  the  chill  off  the  stones,  but  the  majority  are  too 
tired,  even  for  that,  and  the  nightly  toilet  ol  mos«  consists  of  first  removing 
^  the  hat,  swathing  the  head  in  whatevci  old  rag  may  be  doing  duty  as  % 
handkerchief,  and  then  replacing  the  hat 

The  intelligent-looking  elderly  man,  who  was  just  fixing  himself  ap  on'a 
seat,  informed  me  that  he  frequently  made  that  his  night's  abode.  "You- see," 
pjtQtb  h^  J.' there's  nowhere  else  so  comfortable.    I  was  here  last  night,  an(l 


7: 


THE    HOMELESS. 


"B^ 


Monday  and  Tussday  as  well,  that's  four  nig'its  this  wcok.  1  had  no  money  for 
lodgings,  couldn't  earn  any,  try  as  I  might.  I  ve  had  one  bit  of  bread  to-day, 
nothing  else  whatever,  and  I've  earned  nothing  to-day  or  yesterday;  I  had 
threepence  the  day  before.  Gets  my  living  by  carrying  parcels,  or  mindihg 
liursea,  oi  odd  jobs  of  that  sort.  You  see  I  haven't  got  my  health,  that's 
where  it  is.  I  used  to  work  on  the  London  General  Omnibus  Company  and 
after  that  on  the  Road  Car  Company,  but  I  had  to  go  to  the  infirmary  with 
bronchitis  and  couldn't  get  work  after  that.  What's  the  good  of  a  man  what's 
got  bronchitis  and  just  left  the  infirmary  ?  V/ho'll  engage  him.  I'd  like  to  know? 
Besides,  it  makes  me  short  of  breath  at  times,  and  I  can't  do  much.  I'm  a 
widower;  wife  died  long  ago.  I  have  one  boy,  abroad,  a  sailor,  but  he's  only 
lately  started  and  can't  help  me.  Yes!  its  very  fair  out  here  of  nights,  seats 
rather  nard,  but  a  bit  of  waste  paper  makes  it  a  lot  softer.  We  have  women 
sleep  here  often,  and  children,  too.  They're  very  well  conducted,  and  there's 
seldom  many  rows  here,  you  see,  because  everybody's  tired  out.  We're  too 
sleepy  to  make  a  row." 

Another  party,  a  tall,  dull,  helpless-looking  individual,  had  walked  up  from 
the  country ;  would  prefer  not  to  mention  the  place.  He  had  hoped  to  have 
obtained  a  hospital  letter  at  the  Mansion  House  so  as  to  obtain  a  truss  for  a 
bad  rupture,  but  failing,  had  tried  various  other  places,  also  in  vain,  winding 
up  minus  money  or  food  on  the  Embankment. 

In  addition  to  these  sleepers,  a  considerable  number  walk  about  the  streets 
up  till  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  to  hunt  up  some  job  which  will  bring  a 
copper  into  the  empty  exchequer,  and  save  them  from  actual  starvation.  I  had 
some  conversation  with  one  such,  a  stalwart  youth  lately  discharged  from  the 
militia,  and  unable  to  get  work.  , 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  pitifully,  "  I  don't  know  my  way  about  like  most  of  the 
London  fellows.  I'm  so  green,  and  don't  know  how  to  pick  up  jobs  like  they 
do.  I've  been  walking  the  streets  almost  day  and  night  these  two  weeks  and 
cao't  get  work.  I've  got  the  strength,  though  I  shan't  have  it  long  at  this  rate. 
I  only  want  a  job.  This  is  the  third  night  running  that  I've  walked  the  streets 
all  night ;  the  only  money  I  get  is  by  minding  blacking-boys'  boxes  while  they 
go  into  Lockhart's  for  their  dinner.  I  got  a  penny  yesterday  at  it.  and  twopence 
for  carrying  a  parcel,  and  to-day  I've  had  a  penny.  Bought  a  ha'porth  of  bnuid 
and  a  ha'penny  mug  of  tea." 

'Poor  lad  1  probably  he  would  soon  get  i|ito  thieves'  company,  and  sink  into 
the  depths,  for  there  is  no  other  means  of  living  for  many  like  him  ;  it  is  starve 
oCt  steals  ev9«  for  the  young.  Thsre  are  gangs  of  lad  thieves  in  the  low 
Wlritecbapel  lodging-houses,  varying  in  age  fron  thirteen  to  fifteen,  who  live 
1^  thieving  oatables  and  other  easily  obtained  goods  from  shop  fronts. 

lln  addition  to  the  Embankment,  al  fresco  lodgings  are  found  in  the  seats 
afitsidft  Sg^italfields  Church,  aad  many  homeless  viranderers  have  their  qwo  litUe 


■A'^. 


TWELVE    STORIES    FROM    REAL    LIFE. 


27 


nooks  and  corners  of  resort  in  many  sheltered  yards,  vans,  etc.,  all  over  Londoa 
Two  poor  women  I  observed  making  their  home  in  a  shop  door-way  in  Liverpool 
Street.  Thus  they  manage  in  the  summer ;  what  it's  like  in  winter  time  is 
terrible  to  think  of.  In  many  cases  >t  means  the  pauper  s  grave,  as  in  the  wsc 
of  a  young  woman  who  was  wont  to  sleep  in  a  van  in  Bedfordbury-  Some  men 
who  were  aware  of  her  practice  surprised  lier  by  dashing  a  bucket  of  water  on 
her.  The  blow  to  her  weak  system  caused  illness,  and  the  inevitable  sequel— 
a  coroner's  jury  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  water  only  hastened  her  death, 
which  was  due,  in  plain  English,  to  starvation. 

The  following  are  some  statements  taken  down  by  the  same  Officer 
from  twelve  men  whom  he  found  sleeping  on  the  Embankmexic  on 
the  nights  of  June  13th  and  I4lh,  1890: — 

No*  I.  "I've  slept  here  two  nights,  I 'm  a  confectioner  by  trade;  I  eomo 
from  Dartford.  I  got  turned  off  because  I  'm  getting  elderly,  They  can  get 
young  men  cheaper,  and  \  have  the  rheumatism  so  bad  I  vo  earned  nothing 
these  two  days;  I  thought  I  could  get  a  job  a'  Woolwich,  so  1  walked  there, 
but  could  get  notbi.ig.  I  found  a  bit  of  bread  in  the  road  wrapped  up  in  a  bit 
of  newspaper.  That  did"  ne  for  yesterday  I  had  a  bit  of  bread  and  butler 
to-day.  I  'm  54  years  old.  When  it's  wet  we  stand  about  all  night  under  the  arches  "' 

No.  2.  "  Been  sleeping  out  three  weeks  all  b\x*  one  night ;  do  odd  jobs, 
miod  horses,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  Earned  nothing  to-da>,  or  shouldn't  be 
here.  Have  had  a  pen'orth  of  bread  to-day  That 's  all  Yesterday  had  some 
pieces  giveti  to  me  at  a  cook-shop.  Two  days  last  week  had  nothing  at  all 
from  morning  till  night.  By  trade  I'm  a  feather-bed  dresser,  but  it(8  gone  out 
of  fashion,  and  besides  that,  1  've  a  cataract  in  one  eye,  and  have  lost  the  sight 
of  it  completely.  I  'm  a  widower,  have  one  child,  a  soldier,  at  Dovei.  My  last 
regular  work  was  eight  months  ago,  but  the  firm  broke,  Been  doing  odd  iobs 
since." 

No.  3.  "  I  *m  a  tailor ;  have  slept  here  four  nights  running  Can't  get  work 
Been  out  of  a  job  three  weeks.  If  I  can  muster  cash  1  sleep  at  a  lodging-house 
in  Vere  Street,  Clare  Market.  It  was  very  wet  last  night.,  I  left  these  seats  and 
went  to  Covent  Garden  Market  and  slept  under  co'ic.;.^.  There  were  about 
thirty  of  us.  The  police  moved  us  on.  but  we  went  baclc^  as  soon  as  they  had 
gone.  I  've  had  a  pcnorth  of  bread  and  pen'orrh  01  soup  during  ihc  last  two 
Jays — often  goes  witiiout  altogether.  There  are  women  sleep  out  here.  Thev 
larc  decent  people,  mostly  charwomen  and  such  like  who  can  t  get  work." 
]  No.  4.':  Elderly  man  ;  trembles  visibly  with  excitement  at  mention  01  work ; 
i)roduces>    card    carefully    wrapped    in    old    newspaper,   to  the  effect  that 

If.  J.  R  is  a  member  of  the  Trade  Protection  League.      He  is  a  waterside 
labourer;  last  job  at  that  was  a  fortnight  since.     Has  earned  nothing  for  five 

ays.'  .Had  a  bit  of  bread  this  morning,  but  not  a  scrap  since.    Had  a  cup  of 


■P" 


28 


THE    HOMELESS. 


m 


tea  and  two  slices  of  bread  yesterday,  and  the  same  the  day  before ;  the  deputy 
at  a  lodging  house  gave  it  to  him.  He  is  fifty  years  old»  and  is  still  damp  from 
sleeping  out  in  the  wet  last  night. 

No.  5.  Sawyer  by  trade,  machinery  cut  him  out.  Had  a  job,  haymaking 
near  Uxbridgc.  Had  been  on  same  job  lately  for  a  month ;  got  2s.  6d. 
a  day.  (Probably  spent  it  in  drink,  seems  a  very  doubtful  worker.")  Has  been 
odd  jobbing  a  long  time,  earned  2d.  to-day,  bought  a.pcnorth  of  tea  and  ditto  of 
sugar  (produces  same  from  pocket)  but  can't  get  any  place  to  make  the  tea ,  was 
hoping  to  get  to  a  lodging  house  where  he  could  borrow  a  teapot,  but  had  no 
money.  Earned  nothing  yesterday,  slept  at  a  casual  ward  ;  very  poor  place,  get 
insufficient  food,  considering  the  labour.  Six  ounces  of  bread  and  a  pint  of 
skilly  tor  breakfast,  one  ounce  of  cheese  and  six  or  seven  ounces  of  bread  for 
dinner  (bread  cut  by  guess).  Tea  same  as  breakfast, — no  supper.  For  this  you 
have  to  break  10  cwt.  of  stones,  or  pick  4  lbs.  of  oakum. 

Number  6.  Had  slept  out  four  nights  running.  Was  a  distiller  by  trade ; 
been  out  four  months  ;  unwilling  to  enter  into  details  of  leaving,  but  it  was  his 
own  fault.  (Very  likely ;  a  heavy,  thick,  stubborn,  and  senseless-looking 
icllow,  six  feet  higli,  thick  neck,  strong  limbs,  evidently  destitute  of  ability.) 
Does  odd  jobs ;  earned  3d.  for  minding  a  horse,  bought  a  cup  ot  coflee  and 
pen'orth  of  bread  and  butter.  Has  no  money  now.  Slept  under  Waterloo 
Bridge  last  night. 

No.  7.  Good-natured  looking  man  ;  one  who  would  suffer  and  say  nothing  ; 
clothes  shining  with  age,  grease,  and  dirt ;  they  hang  on  his  joints  as  on  pegs  ; 
awful  rags !  I  saw  him  endeavouring  to  walk.  He  lifted  his  feet  very  slowly 
and  put  them  down  carefully  in  evident  pain.  His  legs  are  bad ;  been  in 
infirmary  several  times  with  them.  His  uncle  and  grandfather  were  clergymen  ; 
both  dead  now.  He  was  once  in  a  good  position  in  a  money  office,  and  after- 
wards in  the  London  and  County  Bank  for  nine  years.  Then  he  went  with  an 
auctioneer  who  broke,  and  he  was  left  ill,  old,  and  without  any  trade.  "  A 
clerk's  place,"  says  he,  "  is  never  worth  having,  because  there  are  so  many  of 
them,  and  once  out  you  can  only  get  another  place  with  difficulty.  I  have  a 
brother-in-law  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  but  he  won't  own  me.  Look  at  my 
clothes?    Is  it  likely?" 

No.  8.  Slept  here  four  nights  running.  Is  a  builder's  labourer  by  trade,  that 
is,  a  handy-man.  Had  a  settled  job  for  a  few  weeks  which  expired  three  weeks 
since.  Has  earned  nothing  for  nine  days.  Then  helped  wash  down  a  shop 
front  and  got  2s.  6d.  for  it.  Does  anything  he  can  get.  Is  46  years  old.  Earns 
about  2d.  or  3d.  a  day  at  horse  cinding.  A  cup  of  tea  and  a  bit  of  bread 
yesterday,  and  same  to-day,  is  all  he  has  had. 

No.  9.  A  plumber's  labourer  (all  these  men  who  are  somebody's  "labourers" 
are  poor  samples  of  humanity,  evidently  lacking  in  grit,  and  destitute  oi 
ability  to  do  any  work  which   would   mean  decent   wages).    Judging   frotn 


THE   NOMADS   OF  CIVILIZATION.' 


2d 


B ;  the  deputy 
ill  damp  from 

b,  haymaking 
;  got  2s.  6d. 
r.)  Has  been 
;a  and  ditto  of 
2  the  tea ,  was 
3t,  but  had  no 
poor  place,  get 
and  a  pint  of 
23  of  bread  for 
,     For  this  you 

iller  by  trade ; 
but  it  was  his 
nsclcss-looking 
utc  of  ability.) 
>  of  coflee  and 
nder  Waterloo 

d  say  nothing ; 
its  as  on  pegs  ; 
eet  very  slowly 
bad;   been  in 
ere  clergymen ; 
fice,  and  after- 
e  went  with  an 
iny  trade.     "A 
are  so  many  of 
ulty.     I  have  a 
Look  at  my 

by  trade,  that 
ed  three  weeks 
h  down  a  shop 
ars  old.  Earns 
a  bit  of  bread 

y's  "labourers" 
d  destitute  ot 
Judging   frotn 


lappeiTranceSf- they  will  do  nothing  well.  They  are  a  kind  of  automaton,  with 
the  machinery  '  rusty ;  slow,  ■  dull,  and  incapatle.  The  man  of  ordinary 
inteiygence  leaves  them  in  the  rear.  They  could  doubtless  earn  more  even 
at^oddjobs,  but  lack  the  energy.  Of  course,  this  means  little  food, 
e.VppgUre;; to  weather,  and  increased  incapability  day  by  day.  ("From 
hipj  that  hath  not,"  etc.)  Out  of  work  through. slackness,  does  odd  jobs;  slept 
here  three  nights  running.  Is  a  dock  labourer  when  he  can  get  work.  Has  6d. 
an  hour;  works  so  many  hours,  according  as  he  is  wanted.  Gets  2s.,  3s.,  or 
4s.  6d.  a  day.  Has  to  work  very  nard  for  it.  Casual  ward  life  is  also  very  hard, 
he  says,  ifor  those  who  are  not  used  to  it,  and  there  is  not  enough  to  eat.  Has 
haid  to-day  a  pen'orth  of  bread,  for  minding  a  cab.  Yesterday  he  spent  3id.  on 
a  breakfast,  and  that  lasted  him  all  day.    Age  25. 

No.  10.  Been  out  of  work  a  month.  Carman  by  trade.  Arm  wlfliered,  and 
cannot  do  work  properly.  Has  slept  here  all  the  week  ;  got  an  awful  cold 
through  the  wet.  Lives  at  odd  jobs  (they  all  do).  Got  sixpence  yesterday  for 
minding  a  cab  and  carrying  a  couple  of  parcels.  Earned  nothing  to-day,  but 
had  one  good  meal ;  a  lady  gave  it  him.  Has  been  walking  about  all  day  Iook« 
ing  for  work,  and  is  tired  out.  •         s 

No,  II.  Youth,' aged  16.  Sad  case;  Londoner.  Works  at  odd  jobs  and 
matches  selling.  Has  taken  3d.  to-day,  i.e.,  net  profit  i|d.  Has  five  boxes  still. 
Has  slept  here  every  night  for  a  month.  Before  that  slept  in  Covent  Garden 
Market  or  on  doorsteps. '  Been  sleeping  out  six  months,  since  he  left  Feltham 
Industrial  School.  Was  sent  there  for  playing  trunnt.  Has  had  one  bit  of  bread 
;.o-day ;  yesterday  had  only  some  gooseberries  and  cherries,  i.e.,  bad  ones  that 
had  been  thrown  away.  Mother  is  alive.  She  "chucked  him  out"  when  he 
returned  home  on  leaving  Feltham  because  he  could'nt  find  her  money  for  drink. 

No.  12.  Old  man,  age  67.  Seems  to  take  rather  a  humorous  view  of  the 
position.  Kind  of  Mark  Tapley.  Says  he  can't  say  he  docs  like  it,  but  then  he 
must  like  it  1  Ha,  ha !  Is  a  slater  by  trade.  Been  out  of  work  some  time ; 
younger  men  naturally  get  the  work.  Gets  a  bit  of  bricklaying  sometime  ■; ;  can 
turr.  his  hand  toanything.  Goes  miles  and  gets  nothing.  Earned  one  and  two- 
pence this  week  at  holding  horses.  Finds  it  hard,  certainly.  Used  to  care  once, 
and  get  down-hearted,  but  that's  no  good ;  don't  trouble  now.  Had  a  bit  of 
bread  and  butter  and  cup  of  coffee  to-day.  H3altli  is  awful  bad,  not  half  the 
size  he  '/:■  J ;  exposure  and  want  of  food  is  the  causa  ;  got  wet  last  night,  and  is 
very  stiii  in  consequence.  Has  been  walking  about  since  it  was  light,  that  is 
3  a.m.  Was  so  cold  and  wet  and  weak,  scarcely  knew  what  to  do.  Walked  to 
Hyde  Park,  and  got  a  little  sleep  there  on  a  dry  seat  as  soon  as  the  park  opened. 

These  are  fairly  typical  cases  of  the  men  who  arc  now  wandering- 
homeless  through  the  strcetr..  That  is  the  way  in  which  the  nomads 
!of  civilization  are  constantly  being  recruited  from  aboy^ 


iMia 


11 


tor 


THE   HOMELESS. 


..- 


M 


IVy 


J 


Such  are  the  stories  gathered  at  random  one  Midsummer  night 
this  year  under  the  shade  of  the  plane  trees  of  the  Embankment.  A 
month  later,  when  one  of  my  staff  took  the  census  of  the  sleepers 
out  of  doors  along  the  line  of  the  Thames  from  Blackfriars  to 
Westminster,  he  found  three  hundred  and  sixty-eight  persons 
sleeping  in  the  open  air.  Of  these,  two  hundred  and  seventy  were 
on  the  Embankment  proper,  and  ninety-eight  in  and  about  Covent 
Garden  Market,  while  the  recesses  of  Waterloo  and  Blackfriars 
Bridges  were  full  of  human  misery. 

This,  be  it  remembered,  was  not  during  a  season  of  bad  trade. 
The  revival  of  business  has  been  attested  on  all  hands,  notably  by 
the  barometer  of  strong  drink.  England  is  prosperous  enough  to 
drink  rum  in  quantities  which  appall  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
but'  she  is  not  prosperous  enough  to  provide  other  shelter  than  the 
midnight  sky  for  these  poor  outcasts  on  the  Embankment. 

To  very  many  even  of  those  who  live  in  London  it  may  be  news 
that  there  are  so  many  hundreds  who  sleep  out  of  doors  every  night. 
There  are  comparatively  few  people  stirring  after  midnight,  and  when 
we  are  snugly  tucked  into  our  own  beds  we  are  apt  to  forget  the 
multitude  outside  in  the  rain  and  the  storm  who  are  shivering  the 
long  hours  through  on  the  hard  stone  seats  in  the  open  or  under  the 
arches  of  the  railway.  These  homeless,  hungry  people  are,  however, 
there,  but  being  broken-spirited  folk  for  the  most  part  they  seldom 
make  their  voices  audible  in  the  ears  of  their  neighbours.  Now  and 
again,  however,  a  harsh  cry  from  the  depths  is  heard  for  a  moment, 
jarring  rtidely  upon  the  ear  and  then  all  is  still.  The  inarticulate 
classes  speak  as  seldom  as  Balaam's  ass.  But  they  sometimes  find  a 
voice.1;.  Here  for  instar.ce  is  one  such  case  which  impressed  me  much. 
It  was  reported  in  one  of  the  Liverpool  papers  some  time  back.  The 
speaker  was  haranguing  a  small  knot  of  twenty  or  thirty  men : — 

"  My  lads,"  he  commenced,  with  one  hand  in  the  breast  of  his 
ragged  vest,  and  the  other,  as  usual,  plucking  nervously  at  his  beard, 
"  This  kind  o'  work  can't  last  for  ever."  (Deep  and  earnest  ex- 
clamations, "  It  can't  1  It  shan't")  "Well,  boys,"  continued  the  speaker, 
"  Somebody'll  have  to  find  a  road  out  o'  this.  What  we  want  is  work, 
not  work'us  bounty,  though  the  parish  has  been  busy  enough 
amongst  us  lately,  God  knows!  What  we  want  is  honest  work. 
(Hear,  hear.)  Now,  what  I  propose  is  that  each  of  you  gets^fifty 
n.-..es  -to  joiii  you  ;  that'll  make  about  1,200  starving  chaps — " 
*J%Xid  then  ?"_  asked  several  _verj^gaunt^and_hungry-looking  men 


«l    ;  ' 


4 


'A    LAZARUS    PROCESSION    OF  DESPAIR. 


91 


ner  night 
nent.  A 
i  sleepers 
cfriars  to 
persons 
:nty  were 
It  Covent 
lackfriars 

3ad  trade, 
otably  by 
enough  to 
xchequer, 
r  than  the 

y  be  news 

'ery  night. 

and  when 

forget  the 

vering  the 

under  the 

,  however, 

ley  seldom 

Now  and 
a  moment, 
narticulate 
mes  find  a 

me  much, 
ack.    The 
nen : — 
east  of  his 

his  beard, 
arnest  ex- 
le  speaker, 
int  is  work, 
sy  enough 
nest  work, 
gets.fifty 
chaps — " 
oking  men 


excitedly.  "Why,  then,"  continued  the  leader.  " Why,^thefi;" 
interrupted  a  cadaverous-looking  man  from  the  farther  and^darkeSl 
end  of  the  cellar,  "  of  course  we'll  make  a — ^London  job  of  it»  eh  ^  '* 
"No,'  no,"  hastily  interposed  my  friend,  and  holding  up  his  hands 
deprecatingly,  "  we'll  jo  peaceably  about  it  chaps ;  we'll  go  in  \^ 
body  to  the  Town  Hall,  and  show  our  poverty,  and  ask  Tor  .work. 
We'll  take  the  women  and  children  with  us  too."  ("Too. ragged  I 
Too  starved  i  They  can't  walk  it ! ")  "The  women^s  rags  is  no 
disgrace,  the  staggerin'  children  '11  shdw  what  we  come  toV.  JLet!§ 
go  a  thousand  strong,  and  ask  for  work  and  bread  ! " 

Three  years  ago,  in  London,  there  were  some  such  processions> 
Church,  parades  to  the  Abbey  and  St.  Paul's,  bivouacs  in  TrafalgalT 
Square,.^etc.  But  Lazarus  showed  his  rags  and  his  sores  too  con** 
spicuously  for  the  convenience  of  Dives,  and  was  summarily  dealtt 
withwin  the  name  of  law  and  order.  But  as  we  havje"  Lord 
Mayor's  Days^,  when  all  the  well-fed  fur-clad  City  Fathers  go  in  State 
Coaches,  through  the  town,  why  should  we  not  have  9,  L&2arus 
Day,  in, which  the  starving  Out-of- Works,  and  the  sweated  half- 
starved  "  in-works "  of  London  should  crawl  in  their  tattered 
raggedriess,  with  their  gaunt,  hungry  faces,  and  emaciated  wives  atld 
children,'  a  Procession  of  Despair  through  the  main  thoroughfare^, 
past  the  massive  houses  and  princely  palaces  of  luxurious  London  ? 

For  these  men  are  gradually,  but  surely,  being  sucked  down  into  the 
quickiand  of  modern  life.  They  stretch  out  their  grimy/hands  tO.,Ua 
in  vain  appeal,  not  for  charity,  but  for  work. 

Work,  work !  it  is  always  work  that  they  ask.  The  Divitit;  curj^e 
is  to  them  the  most  blessed  of  benedictions.  "  In  the  sweat  of  thy 
brow  thou  shall  eat  thy  bread,"  but  alas  for  these' forlorn  sons  bt 
Adain;- they  fail  to  find  the  bread  to  eat,  for  Society  has  no  work  f6P 
themito' do. -CyThey  have  not  even  leave  to  sweat.  As  well  as  discuss- 
ing How  these  poor  wanderers  should  in  the  second  Adam  "all  be  made 
alive,"  ou^ht  we  not  to  put  forth  some  effort  to  effect  their  restoratfoii 
to  that  share  in  the  heritage  of  labour  which  is  theirs  by  right. (if 
descent  from  the  first  Adam  ? 


ii. 


'.til 


—  ■■t' 


J!; 


mr^* 


1 

I 


ii  II 


,'  CHAPTER  IV.  ^ 

THE  OUT-OF-WORKS. 

There  is  hardly  any  more  pathetic  figure  than  that  of  the  strong, 
able  worker  crying  plaintively  in  the  midst  of  our  palaces  and  churches, 
not  for  charity,  but  for  work,  asking  only  to  be  allowed  the  privilege 
of  perpetual  hard  labour,  that  thereby  he  may  earn  wherewith  to  fill 
his  empty  belly  and  silence  the  cry  of  his  children  for  food.  .  Crying 
for  it  and  not  getting  it,  seeking  for  labour  as  lost  treasure  and 
finding  it  not,  until  at  last,  all  spirit '  and  vigour  worn  out  in  the 
weary  quest,  the  once  willing  worker  becomes  a  broken-down 
drudge,  sodden  with  wretchedness  and  despairing  of  all  help  in  this 
world  or  in  that  which  is  to  come.  Our  organisation  of  industry 
certainly  leaves  ipuch  to  be  desired.  A  problem  which  even  slave 
owners  have  solved  ought  not  to  be  abandoned  as  insoluble  by  the 
Christian  civilisation  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

I  have  already  given  a  few  life  stories  taken  down  from  the  lips 
of  those  who  were  found  homeless  on  the  Embankment  which  suggest 
somewhat  of  the  hardships  and  the  misery  of  the  fruitless  search  for 
work.  But  what  a  volume  of  dull,  squalid  horror— a  horror  of  great 
darkness  gradually  obscuring  all  the  light  of  day  from  the  life  of 
the  sufferer — might  be  written  from  the  simple  prosaic  experiences 
of  the  ragged  fellows  whom  you  meet  every  day  in  the  street.  These 
men,  whose  labour  is  their  only  capital,  are  allowed,  nay  coippelled, 
to  waste  day  after  day  by  the  want  of  any  means  of  employment,  and 
then  when  they  have  seen  days  and  weeks  roll  by  during  which 
their  capital  has  been  wasted  by  pounds  and  pounds,  they  are 
lectured  for  not  saving  the  pence.  When  a  rich  man  cannot  employ 
his  capital  he  puts  it  out  at  interest,  but  the  bank  for  the  labour 
capital  of  the  poor  man  has  yet  to  be  invented.  Yet  it  might  be 
.worth  while  inventing  one.  A  man's  labour  is  not  only  his  capital, 
but  his  life.  ^:,When  it  passes  it  returns  never  more.  .To  utilise  it.  to 


THE    HUNT-  FOR    WORt^., 


83 


prevent  its  wasteful  squandering,  to  enable  the  poor  man  to  bank  it 
up  for  use  hereafter,  this  surely  is  one  of  the  most  urgent  tasks 
before  civilisation. 

Of  all  heart-breaking  toil  the  hunt  for  work  is  surely  the  worst. 
Ypt  at  any  moment  let  a  workman  lose  his  present  situation,  and  he 
is  compelled, to  begin  anew  the  dreary  round  of  fruitless  calls.  Here 
is  the  story  of  one  among  thousands  of  the  nomads,  taken  down 
from,  his  own  lips,  of  pnewho  was  driven  by  sheer  hupger  into 
crime. 

A  bright  Spring  morning  found  me  landed  from  a  western  colony.  Fourteen 
years  had  passed  since  I  embarked  from  the  same  spot.  They  v/ere  fourteen 
years,  as  far  as  results  were  concerned,  of  non-success,  £  nd  here  I  ^as  again 
in  my  own  land,  a  stranger,  with  anew  career  to  carve  for  myself  and  the 
battle  of  life  to  fight  over  again. 

My  first  thought  was  work.  Nevei  before  had  1  felt  more  eager  for  a  down- 
right good  chance  to  win  my  way  by  honest  toil;  but  where  was  I  to  find  work? 
With  firm  determination  I  started  in  search.  .  One  day  passed  without  success, 
and  another,  and  another,  but  the  thought  cheered  me,  •'  Better  luck  to-morrow.'' 
It  lias  been  said,  ••  Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast."  In  my  case  it 
was  to  be  severely  tested.  .  Days  soon  ran  into  weeks,  amX  still  I  was,  on  the 
trail  patiently  and  hopefully/  Courtesy  and  ppliteness  so  often  met  me  in  my^ 
jenquiries  for  employment  that  I  often  wished  they  would  kick  me  out,  and  so 
vary,  the  monotony  of  the  sickly  veneer  of  consideration  that  so  thinly  overlaid 
the  indi^erence  and  the  absolute  unconcern  they  had  to  my  needs.  A  few  cut  up 
'rough  and  said,  "  No ;  we  don't  want  you."  "  Please  don't  trouble  us  again  (this 
^after  the  second  visit).  We  have  no  vacancy ;  and  if  we  had,  we  haye  plepty  of 
people  on  hand  to  fill  it." 

Whp  c^n  e.xpress  the  feeUng  that  comes  over  one  when  the  fact  begins  to 
dawn  that,  the  search  for  work  is  a  failure?  All  my  hopes  and 'prospects 
seemed  Jo  liaye;  turned  put  false.  •  Helplessness,  I  had  often  heard  of  it,  had 
often  talked  about  it,  thought  I  knew  all  about  it.  Yes !  in  others,  but  now  I 
began , to  understand  it  for  myself.  Gradually  my  personal  appearance  faded. 
My  once  faultless  linen  became  unkempt  and  unclean.  -  Down  further  and 
furthe'r-went  the  heels  oi  my  shoes,  and  I  drifted  into  that  distressing  condition, 
"  shabby  gentility."  .'  If  the  odds  were  against  me  before,  how  much  more  so 
nov^i  seeing  that  I  was  too  shabby  even  to  command,  attention)  much  less  a 
reply  to\my  enquiry  for  work. 

Hunger  now  began  to  do  its  work,  and  I  drifted  to  the  dock  gates,  but  what 
phance;  had  ,1  among  the  hungry  giants  there?  And  so  down  ^the.  stream  I 
ftnfted-uritil^*  Grim  Want "  brought  me  to  the  last  shilling,  the  last  lodging,  and 
tiiBiasi:rieaL    What  shall  I  do^   Wliere  shall  I  go  ?    1  tried  to  tjiink.  :,J4ust, 


..■•ii 
)■ 

i''t 


(\ 


■  I 


y 


/ 


w 


It; 


!t 


f 


34 


THE   OUT-OF-WORKS. 


I  starve  ?  Surely  there  must  be  some  door  still  open  for  honest  willing 
endeavour,  but  where  ?  What  can  I  do?  "  Drink,"  said  the  Tempter;  but  to 
drink  to  drunkenness  needs  cash,  and  oblivion  by  liquor  demands  an  equivalent 
in  the  currency. 

Starve  or  steal.  •'  You  must  do  one  or  the  other,"  said  tlie  Tempter.  But  I 
Tecoiled  from  being  a  Thief.  "  V/hy  be  so  particular  ?  "  says  the  Tempter  again. 
"You  are  down  now,  who  will  trouble  about  you?  Why  trouble  about 
yourself?  The  choice  is  between  starving  and  stealing."  And  I  struggled 
until  hunger  stole  my  judgment,  and  then  I  became  a  Thief. 

No  one  can  pretend  that  it  was  an  idle  fear  of  death  by  starvation 
which  drove  this  poor  fellow  to  steal.  Deaths  from  actual  hunger  are 
more  common  than  is  generally  supposed.  Last  year,  a  man,  whose 
name  was  never  known,  was  walking  through  St.  James's  Park,  when 
three  of  our  Shelter  men  saw  him  suddenly  stumble  and  fall.  They 
thought  he  was  drunk,  but  found  he  had  fainted.  They  carried  him 
to  the  bridge  and  gave  him  to  the  police.  They  took  him  to  St. 
George's  Hospital,  where  he  "died.  It  appeared  that  he  had,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  tale,  walked  up  from  Liverpool,  and  had  been 
without  food  for  five  days.  The  doctor,  however,  said  he  had  gone 
longer  than  that.  The  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  "  Death  from 
Starvation." 

Without  food  for  five  days  or  longer !  Who  that  has  experienced 
the  sinking  sensation  that  is  felt  when  even  a  single  meal  has  been 
sacrificed  may  form  some  idea  of  what  kind  of  slow  torture  killed  that 
man! 

In  1888  the  average  daily  numoer  of  unemployed  in  London  was 
Estimated  by  the  Mansion  House  Committee  at  20,000.  This  vast 
teservoir  of  unemployed  labour  is  the  bane  of  all  efforts  to  raise  the 
scale  ofliving,  to  improve  the  condition  of  labour.  Men  hungering  to 
death  for  lack  of  opportunity  to  earn  a  crust  are  the  materials  from 
which  "  blacklegs  "  are  made,  by  whose  aid  the  labourer  is  constantly 
defeated  in  his- attempts  to  improve  his  condition. 

This  is  the  probleniibat-m\de.rlies  all  questions  of  TradesUnionism, 
and  aTTScHemes  for  the  Improvement  of  the  Condition  of  the  Industrial 
Army: '  To  rear  any  stable  edifice  that  will  not  perish  when  the  first 
storm  rises  and  the  first  hurricane  blows,  it  must  be  built  not  upon 
sand,  but  upon  a  rock.  And  the  worst  of  all  existing  Schemes  for 
social  betterment  by  organisation  of  the  skilled  \\rorkers  and  the  like 
is  that  they  are  founded,  not  upon  "  rock,"  nor  even  upon  "  sand," 
but  upon  the  bottomless  bog  of  the  stratum  of  the  Workless.    It  is, 


loncst  wilUng 
tnpter ;  but  to 
an  equivalent 

upter.  But  I 
empter  again, 
rouble  about 
d  I  struggled 

y  Starvation 

1  hunger  are 

man,  whose 

Park,  when 

fall.     They 

carried  him 

him  to  St. 

he  had,  ac- 

d  had  been 

le  had  gone 

!)eath  from 

experienced 
;al  has  been 
e  killed  that 

!^ndon  was 
This  vast 
to  raise  the 
ungering  to 
erials  from 
•  constantly 

jUnionism, 
e  Industrial 
en  the  first 
:  not  upon 
ichemes  for 
nd  the  like 
)n  "sand," 
less.    It  is 


AN    IMMENSE    PROBLEM 


36 


here  where  we  must  begin.  The  regimentation  of  industrial  workers 
who  have  got  regular  work  is  not  so  very  difficult.  That  can  be 
done,  and  is  being  done,  by  themselves.  The  problem  that  we  have 
to  face  is  the  regimentation,  the  organisation,  of  those  who  have  not 
got  work,  or  who  have  only  irregular  work,  and  who  from  sheer 
pressure  of  absolute  starvation  are  driven  irresistibly  into  cut-throat 
competition  with  their  better  employed  brothers  and  sisters.  Skin 
for  skin,  all  that  a  man  hath,  will  he  give  for  his  life ;  much  more, 
then,  will  those  who  experimentally  know  not  God  give  .ill  that  they 
might  hope  hereafter  to  have — in  this  world  or  in  the  world  to  come. 

There  is  no  gainsaying  the  immensity  of  the  problem.  It  is 
appalling  enough  to  make  us  despair.  But  those  who  do  not  put 
their  trust  in  man  alone,  but  in  One  who  is  Almighty,  have  no  right 
to  despair.  To  despair  is  to  lose  faith  ;  to  despair  is  to  forget  God. 
Without  God  we  can  do  nothing  in  this  frightful  chaos  of  human 
misery.  But  with  God  we  can  do  all  things,  and  in  the  faith  that  He 
has  made  in  His  image  all  the  children  of  men  we  face  even  this 
hideous  wreckage  of  humanity  with  a  cheerful  confidence  that  if  we 
are  but  faithful  to  our  own  high  calling  He  will  not  fail  to  open  up  a 
way  of  deliverance. 

I  have  nothing  to  say  against  those  who  are  endeavouring  to  open 
up  a  way  of  escape  without  any  consciousness  of  God's  help.  For 
them  I  feel  only  sympathy  and  compassion.  In  so  far  as  they  are 
endeavouring  to  give  bread  to  the  hungry,  clothing  to  the  naked,  and 
above  all,  work  to  the  workless,  they  are  to  that  extent  endeavouring 
to  do  the  will  of  our  Father  which  is  in  Heaven,  and  woe  be  unto  all 
those  who  say  them  nay !  But  to  be  orphaned  of  all  sense  of  the 
Fatherhood  of  God  is  surely  not  a  secret  source  of  strength.  It  is 
in  most  cases — it  would  be  in  my  own — the  secret  of  paralysis.  If  I 
did  not  feel  my  Father's  hand  in  the  darkness,  and  hear  His  voice  in 
the  silence  of  the  night  watches  bidding  me .  put  my  hand  to  this 
thing,  I  would  shrink  back  dismayed  ; — but  as  it  is  I  dare  not. 

How  many  are  there  who  have  made  similar  attempts  and  have  failed, 
and  we  have  heard  of  them  no  more  !  Yet  none  of  them  proposed  to 
deal  with  more  than  the  mere  fringe  of  the  evil  which,  God  helping  me,  1 
will  try.  to  face  in  all  its  immensity.  Most  Schemes  that  are  put 
forward :?ffbr^s-the^  Improvement  of  the  Circumstances  vof^  the 
People  :*^are  yfcither  i  avowedly  orj^  actually  limited  to  .those  ?  whose 
condition  ^-lea^tf  needs  amelioration.  ,  The  Utopians/Cthe^cono- 
|nistS|^and^^mQ§.t  j  of  .  tHe  ^ihilanthropists    projgound  :  remedies, 


s« 


THE   OUT-OF-WORKS. 


which,  if  adopted  to-morrow,  would  only  affect  the  aristo 
cracy  of  tl>c  miserable.  It  is  the  thrifty,  the  industrious,  the  sober, 
the  thoughtful  who  can  take  advantage  of  these  plans.  But 
the  thrifty,  the  industrious,  the  sober,  and  the  thoughtful  are  already 
very  well  able  for  the  most  part  to  take  care  of.  themselves.  No  one 
will  ever  make  even  a  visible  dint  on  the  Morass  of  Squalor  who 
does  Pot  deal  with  the  improvident,  the  lazy,  the  vicious,  and  the 
criminal.  The  Scheme  of  Social  Salvation  is  not  worth  discussion 
which  is  not  as  wide  as  the  Scheme  of  Eternal  Salvation  set  forth  in 
the  Gospel.  The  Glad  Tidings  must  be  to  every  creature,  not  merely 
to  an  elect  few  who  are  to  be  saved  while  the  mass  of  their  fellows 
are  predestined  to  a  temporal  damnation.  We  have  had  this  doctrine 
of  an  inhuman  cast-iron  pseudo-political  « economy  too  long 
enthroned  amongst  us.  It  is  now  time  to  fling  down  the  false  idol, 
and  proclaim  a  Temporal  Salvation  as  full,  free,  and  universal,  and 
with  no  other  limitations  than  the  "  Whosoever  will,"  of  the  Gospel. 

To  attempt  to  save  the  Lost,  we  must  accept  no  limitations  to 
human  brotherhood.  If  the  Scheme  which  I  set  forth  in  these  and 
the  following  pages  is  not  applicable  to  the  Thief,  the  Harlot,  the 
Drunkard,  and  the  Sluggard,  it  may  as  well  be  dismissed  without 
ceremony.  As  Christ  came  to  call  not  the  saints  but  sinners  to 
repentance,  so  the  New  Message  of  Temporal  Salvation,  of  salvation 
from  pinching  poverty,  from  rags  and  misery,  must  be  offered  to  all. 
They  may  reject  it,  of  course.  But  we  who  call  ourselves  by  the 
name  of  Christ  are  not  worthy  to  profess  to  be  His  disciples  until  wc 
have  set  an  open  door  before  the  least  and  worst  of  these 
who  are  now  apparently  imprisoned  for  life  in  a  horrible 
dungeon  of  misery  and  despair.  The  responsibility  for  its  rejection 
must  be  theirs,  not  ours.  We  all  know  the  prayer, ''  Give  me  neither 
poverty  nor  riches,  feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me  " — and  for 
every  child  of  man  on  this  planet .  thank  God  the  prayer  of  Agur, 
the  son  of  Jakeh,  may  be  fulfilled. 

At  present  how  far  it  is  from  being  realised  may  be  seen  by  anyone 
who  will  take  the  trouble  to  go  down  to  the  docks  and  see  the  struggle 
for  work.    Here  is  a  sketch  of  what  was  found  there  this  summer : — 

London  Docks,  7.25  a.m.  The  three  pairs  of  huge  wooden  doors  are  closed. 
Leaning  against  them,  and  standing  about,  there  are  perhaps  a  couple  of 
hundred  men.  The  public  house  opposite  is  full,  doing  a  heavy  trade.  AV 
along  the  road  are  groups  of  men,  and  from  each  direction  a  steady  stream 
increases  the  crowd  at  the  gate.' 


AT¥THE    DOCK    GATES 


the  aristo 
5,  the  sober, 
plans.     But 

are  already 
Es.  No  one 
Squalor  who 
>us,  and  the 
1  discussion 

set  forth  in 
;,  not  merely 
heir  fellows 
:his  doctrine 
too  long 
ic  false  idol, 
tiversal,  and 
:he  Gospel, 
imitations  to 
in  these  and 

Harlot,  the 
sed  without 

sinners  to 

of  salvation 
ffered  to  all. 
;lves  by  the 
>les  until  wc 
it  of   these 

a  horrible 
its  rejection 
'e  me  neither 
"—and  for 
rer  of  Agur, 

n  by  anyone 

the  struggle 

;  summer : — 

>rs  are  closed. 
s  a  couple  of 
ivy  trade.  AH 
Steady  stream 


7.30.  Doors  open,  there. is  a  general,  rush  to  the  interior.  Everybody 
inarches  about  a  hundred  yards  along  to  thieiron  barrier— a  temporary  chain 
affair,  guarded  by  the  dock  police.  Those  men  who  have  previously  (i>.r  night 
before)  been  engaged,  show  their  ticket  and  pass  through,  about  six  hundred. 
The  rest— some  five  hundred— stand  behind  the  barrier,  patiently  waiting. tlie 
chance  of  a  job,  but  /ess  than  twenty  of  these  get  engaged.  They  arc  taken  on 
by  a  foreman  who  appears  next  the  barrier  and  proceeds  to  pick  his  men;~  No 
sooner  is  the  foreman  seen,  than  there  is  a  wild  rush  to  the  spot  and  a  sharp, 
mad  fight  to  "  catch  his  eye."  The  men  picked  out,  pass  tlie  barrier,  and  the 
excitement  dies  away  until  another  lot  of  men  are  wanted. 

They  wait  until  eiglit  o'clock  strikes,  which  is  the  signal  to' withdraw. 
The  barrier  is  taken  down  and  all  those  hundreds  of  men,  wearily  disperse  to 
"  find  a  job."  Five  hundred  applicants,  twenty  acceptances !  No  wonder  one 
tired-out  looking  individual  ejaculates,  "Oh  dear,  Oh  dear!  Whatever  shall  I 
do  ?  "  A  few  hang  about  until  mid-day ,6n  the  slender  chance  of  getting  taken 
on  then  for  half  a  day. 

Ask  the  men  and  they  will  tell  yOU' something  like  the  follSwing 
story,  which  gives  the  simple  experiences  of  a  dock  labourer: 


■.s.    »•' 


Ir. 


R.  P.  said  : — "I  was  in  regular  work  7^  at -.  the  •  South  West  ■  Indi^  Docks 
before  the  strike.  We  got  5d.  an  hour.  Start  work  8  a.m.  summer  and  9  a.m.' 
winler.  Often  there  would  be  five  hundred  go,  and  only  twenty  get  taken  on 
(that  is  besides  those  engaged  the  night  previous!)  The  foreman  stood  in  his 
box,  and  called  out  the  men  he  wanted.  He  would  know  quite  five  hundred  by 
name.  It  was  a  regular  fight  to  get  work,  I  have  known  nine  hundred  to  be 
taken  on,  but  there's  always  hundreds  turned  away.  -You  see  they  get  to  know 
when  ships  come  in,  and  when  they're  conseqicnily  lilnly  to  be,  wanted,  and 
turn  up  then  in  greater  numbers.  I  would  earn  yts.  a  week  sometimes  and 
then  perhaps  nothing  for  a  fortnight.'  That's  what  makes  it  so  hard.  You  get 
nothing  to  eat  for  a  week  scarcely,  and  then  when  you  get  taken  on,  you  are  so 
weak  that  you  can't  do  it  properly.  I've  stood  in  the  crowd  at  the  gate  and  had 
to  go  away  without  work,  hundreds  .of  times.  Still  I  should  go  at  it  again  if  I 
could.  ^:  I  got  tired  of  the  little  work  and  went  away  into  the  country  to  get  work 
bn  a  farm,  but  couldn't  get  it,  so  I'm  without  the  \os.  that  it  costs  to  join  the 
jDockers'  Union.  I'm  going  to  the  country  again  in  a  day  or  two  tu  try  again. 
Expect  to  get  3^  a  day  perhaps. ^'  Shall  come  back  to  the  docks  again.  '  There 
is  a  chance  of  getting  regular'dock  work,  and  thut  is,  to  lounge  about  the  pubs, 
where  the  foremen  go,  and  treat  them.    Then  they  will  very  likely  take  you  on 

next  day." 

'*\:vj_i,"."..' 

R.  Prwas  a  liori-Uhionist.     Henry  F.  is  a  Unionist.     His  history 


'I 
r 


38 


THE    OUT-OF-WORKS. 


"  I  worked  at  St.  Katherine's  Docks  five  months  ago.  You  have  to  get  to  the 
gates  at  6  o'clock  for  the  first  call.  There's  generally  about  400  waiting.  They 
will  take  on  one  to  two  hundred.  Then  at  7  o'clock  there's  a  second  call. 
Another  400  w^U  have  gathered  by  then,  and  another  hundred  or  so  will  be  takcii 
on.  Also  there  will  probably  be  calls  at  nine  and  one  o'clock.  About  the  same 
number  turn  up  but  there's  no  work  for  many  hundreds  of  then.  I  was  a  Union 
man.  That  means  los.  a  week  sick  pay,  or  8s.  a  week  for  slight  accidents ;  also 
some  other  advantages.  The  Docks  won't  take  men  on  nov  unless  they  are 
Unionists.  The  point  is  that  there's  too  many  men.  I  would  often  be  out  of 
work  a  fortnight  to  three  weeks  at  a  time.  Once  earned  £-^  in  a  week,  working 
day  and  night,  but  then  had  a  fortniglit  out  directly  after.  Especially  when  there 
don't  happen  to  be  any  ships  in  for  a  few  days,  which  means,  of  course,  nothing 
to  unload.  That's  the  time  ;  there's  plenty  of  men  almost  starving  then.  .  They 
have  DO  trade  to  go  to,  or  can  get  no  work  at  it,  and  they  swoop  down  to  the 
docks  for  work,  when  they  had  much  better  stay  away." 

But  it  is  not  only  at  the  dock-gates  that  you  come  upon  these 
unfortunates  who  spend  their  lives  in  the  vain  hunt  Tor  work.  ,  Here 
is  the  story  of  another  man  whose  case  has  only  too  many  parallels. 

C.  is  a  fine  built  man,  standing  nearly  six  feet.  He  has  been  in  the  Royal 
Artillery  for  eight  years  and  held  very  good  situations  whilst  in  it.  It  seems 
that  he  was  thrifty  and  consequently  steady.  He  bought  his  discharge,  and 
being  an  excellent  cook  opened  a  refreshment  house,  but  at  the  end  of  five 
months  he  was  compelled  to  close  his  shop  on  account  of  slackness  in  trade, 
which  was  brought  about  by  the  closing  of  a  large  factory  in  the  locality. 

After  having  worked  in  Scotland  and  Newcastlc-on-Tyne  for  a  few  years, 
and  through  ill  health  having  to  give  up  his  situation,  he  came  to  London  with 
the  hope  that  he  might  get  something  to  do  in  his  native  town.  He  has  had  no 
regular  employment  for  the  past  eight  months.  His  wife  and  family  are  in  a 
state  01  destitution,  and  he  remarked,  "  We  only  had  i  lb.  of  bread  between  us 
yesterday."  He  is  six  weeks  in  arrears  of  rent,  and  is  afraid  that  he  will  be 
ejected.  The  furniture  which  is  in  his  home  ij  not  wrrth  3s.  and  the  clothes  ol 
each  member  of  his  family  are  in  a  tattered  state  and  hardly  (it  for  the  *ag  bag. 
He  assured  us  he  had  tried  everywhere  t?  get  employment  and  would  be  willing 
to  take  anything.     His  characters  are  very  good  indeed. 

Now,  it  may  seem  a  preposterous  dream  that  any  arrangement  can 
be  devised  by  which  it  may  be  possible,  under  all  circumstances,  to 
provide  ..food,  clothes,  and  she'ter  for  all  these  Out-of-Works 
without  any  loss  of  self  respect ;  but  I  am  convinced  that  it  can  be 
done,'providing  only  that  they  are  willing  to  Work,  and,  God  helping 
|mc,  if  the  means  are  forthcoming,  I  mean  to  try.  to  do  it ;  how,  and 
ivhere,  and  when,  I  will  explain  in  subsequent  chaptecsi 


wi| 

a§ 

al 

ma 

th| 

thi 

d£ 


r^ 


e  to  get  to  the 
'aiting.  They 
a  second  call. 

>  will  be  takcifl 
bout  the  same 
I  was  a  Union 
:cidents;  also 
iless  they  are 
ften  be  out  of 
feek,  working 
ly  when  there 
lurse,  nothing 

;  then.  ,  They 

>  down  to  the 


A    REALISABLE    IDEALl 


39 


\>i^>yj^- 


:^:^ 


All  that  I  need  say  here  is,  that  so  long  as  a  mar[.otiki^?^^n  j^ 
willing  to  submit  to  the  discipline  indispensable  in  everpqampijgn! 
against  any  formidable  foe,  there  appears  to  me  nothing- im^ssible 
about  thjs  ideal ;  and  the  great  element  of  hope  before  us  j||;^haf  the 
majority  are,  beyond  all  gainsaying,  eager  for  work;^pM6st  of 
them  now  do  more  exhausting  work  in  seeking  for  employment  than 
the  regular  toilers  do  in  their  workshops,  and  do  it,  too,  under  the 
darkness  of  hope  deferred  which  maketh  the  heart  sick.  ^ 


I.  . 


CHAPTER   V. 
ON  THE  VERGE  OF  THE  ABYSS. 


There  is,  unfortunately,  no  need  for  me  to  attempt  to  set  out,  how- 
ever imperfectly,  any  statement  of  the  evil  case  of  the  sufferers  whom 
we  wish  to  help.  For  years  past  the  Press  has  been  fJ.lcd  with 
echoes  of  the  "  Bitter  Crv  of  Outcast  London,"'  with  pictures  of 
"  Horrible  Glasgow,"  and  the  like.  We  have  had  several  volui^es 
describing  "  How  the  Poor  Live,"  and  I  may  therefore  assume  that 
all  my  readers  are  more  or  less  cognizant  of  the  main  outlines  of 
"  Darkest  England."  My  slum  officers  are  living  in  the  midst  cf  it 
their  reports  are  before  me,  and  one  day  I  may  publish  some  ' 
detailed  account  of  the  actual  '■-';ts  of  the  social  condition  of  the 
Sunken  Millions.  Put  not  now.  All  that  must  be  taken  as  read.  I 
only  glance  at  the  subject  in  order  to  bring  into  clear  relief  the 
salient  points  of  our  new  Enterprise. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  houseless  noor.  tir.ch  of  these  represents  a 
point  in  the  scale  of  human  sufferi.ig  below  that  of  those  who  have  sJill 
contrived  to  keep  a  shelter  over  their  heads.  A  home  is  a  home,  be 
it  ever  so  low ;  and  the  desperate  tenacity  with  which  the  poor 
will  cling  to  the  last  wretched  semblance  of  one  is  very  touch- 
ing. There  are  vile  dens,  fever-haunted  and  stench. al  crowded 
courts,  where  the  return  of  summer  is  dreaded  because  it 
Oieans  the  orwloosing  of  myriads  of  vermin  which  render  night 
unbearable,  which,  nevertheless,  are  regarded  at  this  moment  as 
havens  of  rest  by  their  hard-working  occupahts.  They  can  scarcely 
be  said  to  be  furnished.  A  chair,  a  mattress,  and  a  few  miserable 
sticks  constitute  all  the  furniture  of  the  biiiglc  room  in  which  they 
have  to  sleep,  and  breed,  and  die ;  but  'they  cling  to  it  as  ^  drowning 
man  to  a  half-submerged  raft.  Every  week  they  contrive  by  pinch- 
ing and  scheming  to  raise  the  rent,  for  with  them  it  is  pay  or  go ; 
and  they,  struggle  to  meet  the  collector  as  the  sailor,  nerves  himself 


A    cry:  OF    DESPAtR. 


4t 


«t  out,  how- 
Terers  whom 
with 


n  nilcd 


pictures  of 
;ral  volui^es 
assume  that 
1  outlines  of 
midst  cf  it 
1  some  ' 
jition  of  the 
1  as  read.  I 
ir  relief  the 

represents  a 
rho  have  still 
3  a  home,  be 
:h  the  poor 
very  touch- 
.al  crowded 

because  it 
ender  night 

moment  as 
can  scarcely 
V  miserable 
which  they 

a  drowning 
;<:  by  pinch- 
pay  or  go ; 
rves  himself 


to  avoid  being  sucked  under  by  the  foaming  wave.  If  at  any  time 
work  fails  or  sickness  comes  they  are  liable  to  drop  helplessly  into 
the  ranks  of  the  homeless.  It  is  bad  for  a  single  man  to  have  to 
confront  the  struggle  for  life  in  the  streets  and  Casual  Wards.  But 
how  much  more  terrible  must  it  be  for  the  married  man  with  his 
v/ife  and  children  to  be  turned  out  into  the  streets.  So  long  as  the 
jamily  has  a  lair  into  which  it  can  creep  at  night,  he  keeps  his  footing; 
but  when  he  loses  that  solitary  foothold  then  arrives  the  time  if 
there  be  such  athing  as  Christian  compassion,  for  the  helping  hard 
to  be  held  out  to  save  him  from  the  vortex  that  sucks  him  downward 
— ay,  downward  to  the  hopeless  under-strata  of  crime  and  despair. 

**  The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness  and  the  stranger  intcr- 
meddleth  not  therewith."  But  now  and  then  out  of  the  depths  there 
sounds  a  bitter  wail  as  of  some  strong  swimmer  in  his  agony  as  he 
is  drawn  under  by  the  current.  A  short  time  ago  a  respectable  man, 
a  chemist  in  Holloway,  fifty  years  of  age,  driven  hard  to  the  wall, 
tried  to  end  it  all  by  cutting  his  throat.  His  wife  also  cut  her 
throat,  and  at  the  same  time  they  gave  strychnine  to  their  only 
child.  The  effort  failed,  and  they  were  placed  on  trial  for  attempted 
murder.  In  the  Court  a  letter  was  read  which  the  poor  wretch  had 
written  before  attempting  his  life  : — 

My  dearest  George, — Twelve  months  have  I  now  passed  of  a  most  miserable 
and  struggling  existence,  and  I  really  cannot  stand  it  any  more.  I  am  com- 
pletely worn  out,  and  relations  who  could  assist  me  won't  do  any  more,  for  such 
was  uncle's  last  intimation.  Never  mind ;  he  can't  take  his  money  and  comfort 
with  him,  and  in  all  probability  will  find  himself  in  the  same  boat  as  myself. 
He  never  enquires  whether  I  am  starving  or  not.  ;^3— amere  flei.-bite  to  him — 
would  have  put  us  straight,  and  with  his  security  and  good  interest  might  have 
obtained  me  a  good  situation  long  ago.  I  can  face  poverty  and  degradation  no 
longer,  and  would  sooner  die  than  go  to  the  workhouse,  whatever  may  be  the 
a\v.';tl  consequences  of  the  steps  we  have  takt '..  We  have,  God  forgive  us, 
^  c>'  oir  darling  Arty  with  us  out  of  pure  love  and  affection,  so  that  the 
din;  s'ould  never  be  cuffed  about,  or  reminded  or  taunted  with  his  heart- 
brok.'  •  pa.-ents'  cfime.  My  poor  wife  has  done  her  best  at  needle-work, 
washing,  house-minding,  &c.,  in  fact,  anything  and  everything  that  would  bring 
ill  a  shilling ;  but  it  would  only  keep  us  in  semi-starvation.  I  have  now  done 
six  weeks'  travrlling  from  morning  till  night,  and  not  received  one  farthing  for 
it.  If  that  is  not  enough  to  drive  >ou  mad— wickedly  mad — I  don't  know  what 
is.    No  bright  prospect  anywhere  ;  no  ray  of  hope. 

May   God    Almighty    forgive    us    for    this    heinous    sin,  and    have  mercy 
on   our   sinful   souls,    is   the    prayer    of    your   miserable,    broken- he^rtedj 


;■:'(■ 


in 


1^' 


I 


4i2 


ON  THE  VERGE  OF  THE  ABYSS. 


but  loving  brother,  Arthur.  We  have  now  done  everything  that  we  can 
possibly  think  of  to  avert  this  wicked  proceeding,  but  can  discover  no 
ray  of  hope.  Fervent  prayer  has  availed  us  nothing;  our  lot  is  caat, 
and  we  must  abide  by  it.  It  must  be  God's  will  or  Ho  would  have 
ordained  it  differently.  Dearest  Georgy,  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  leave  you 
all,  but  I  am  mad — thoroughly  mad.  You,  dear,  must  try  and  forget  us,  and, 
if  possible,  forgive  us ;  for  I  do  not  consider  it  our  own  fault  we  have  not 
succeeded.  If  you  could  get  £'^  for  our  bed  it  will  pay  our  rent,  and  our  scanty 
furniture  may  fetch  enough  to  bury  us  in  a  cheap  way.  Don't  grieve  over  us  or 
follow  us,  for  we  shall  not  be  worthy  of  such  respect.  Our  clergyman  has 
never  called  on  us  or  given  us  the  least  consolation,  though  !  called  on  him  a 
month  ago.  He  is  paid  to  preach,  and"  there  he  considers  his  responsibility 
ends,  the  rich  excepted.  We  have  only  yourself  and  a  very  few  others  who, 
care  one  pin  what  becomes  of  us,  but  you  must  try  and  forgive  us,  is  the  last 
fervent  prayer  of  your  devotedly  fond  and  affectionate  but  broken-hearted  and 
persecuted  brother.  ■  (Signed)         R.  A.  O . 

That  is  an  autl  'itic  human  document — a  transcript  from  the  life 
of  one  among  thousr-  vho  go  down  inarticulate  into  the  depths. 

They  die  and  make  no  .  ign,  or,  worse  still,  they  continue  to  exist, 
carrying  about  with  them,  year  after  year,  the  bitter  ashes  of  a  life 
from  which  the  furnace  of  misfortune  has  burnt  away  all  joy,  and  hope, 
and  strength.      Who  is  there  who  has  not  been  confronted  by  many 

despairing  ones,  who  come,  as  Richard  O went,  to  the  clergyman, 

crying  for  help,  and  how  seldom  have  we  been  able  to  give  it  them  ? 
It  is  unjust,  no  doubt,  for  them  to  blame  the  clergy  and  the  comfort- 
able weil-to-do— for  what  can  they  do  but  preach  and  offer  good 

advice  ?    To  assist  all  the  Richard  O s'  by  direct  financial  advance 

would  drag  even  Rothschild  into  the  gutter.  And  what  else  can  be 
done?  Yet  something  else  must  be  done  if  Christianity  is  not  to  be 
a  mockery  to  perishing  men. 

Here  is  another  case,  a  very  common  case,  which  illustrates  how 
the  Army  of  Despair  is  recruited. 

Mr.  T.,  Margaret  Place,  Gascoign  Place,  Bethnal  Green,  is  a  bootmaker  by  trade. 
Is  a  good  hand,  and  has  earned  three  shillings  and  sixpence  to  four  shillings  and 
sixpence  a  day.  He  was  taken  ill  last  Christmas,  and  went  to  the  London  Hospital ; 
was  there  three  months.  A  week  after  he  had  gone  Mrs.  T.  had  rheumatic 
fever,  afld  was  taken  to  Bethnifl  Green  Infirmary,  where  she  remained  about 
three  months.  Directly  after  they  had  been  taken  ill,  their  furniture  was  seized 
for  the  three  weeks'  rent  which  was  owing.  Consequently,  on  becoming  ,con^ 
valescent,  they  were  homel  sij.  They  came  out  about  the  same  time.  He  wen! 
put  to  a  lodging-house  lor  a  night  or  two,  untU  she  came  out.    He  then  had 


WANTED    /C'^^  SOCIAL"^ LIFE-BOAT^  BRIGADE  II 


4? 


twopence,  and  she  had  sixpence,  which  a  nurse  had  given  her.  They  went  to  ai 
lodging-house  together,  but  th'  society  there  was  dreadful.  Next  day  he  had  a 
day's  work,  and  got  two  shilling  and  sixpence,  and  on  the  strength  of  this  they, 
took  a  furnished  room  at  tenpencu  per  day  (payable  nightly).  '  His  work  lasted! 
a  few  weeks,  when  he  was  again  taken  ill,  lost  his  job,  and  spent  all  their  money.^ 
Pawned  a  shirt  and  apron  for  a  shilling ;  spent  that,  too.  At  last  pawned  theifj 
tools  for  three  shillings,  which  got  them  a  few  d8>s'  food  and  lodging.  He  is] 
now  minus  tools  and  cannot  work  at  his  own  job,  and  does  anything  he  can. 
Spent  their  I..0I  twopence  on  a  pen'orth  each  of  tea  «nd  sugar.  In  two  days 
they  had  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter  each,  that 's  all.  They  are  both  very  weak 
through  want  of  food. 

"  Let  things  alone,"  the  laws  of  supply  and  demand,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  excuses  by  which  those  who  stand  on  firm  ground  salve 
their-  consciences  when  they  leave  their  brother  to  sink,  how  do 
they  look  when  we  apply  them  to  the  actual  loss  of  life  at  sea? 
Does  "Let  things  alone"  man  the  lifeboat?  Will  the  inexorable  laws  of 
pofitical  economy  save  the  shipAVffiCWSi  saildr  ffftTft  (R^  poihng  surf? 
Th^y  "Often  enough  are  responsible  for  his  disaster.  Coffin  ships 
are  a  direct  result  of  the  wretched  policy  of  non-interference  with  the 
legitimate'  operations  of  commerce,  but  no  desire  to  make  it  pay 
created  the  National  Lifeboat  Institution,  no  law  of  supply  and 
demand  actuates"  th'e  volunteers  who  risk  their  lives  to  bring  the 
shipwrecked  to  shore. 

What  we  have  to  do  is  to  apply  the  same  principle  to  society. 
We  want  a  Social  ^lifehflali  TniRif^Mt'^",  a  Social  Lifeboat  Brigade,  to 
snatch  from  the  abyss  those  who,  if  left  to  themselves,  will  perish 
as  miserably  as  the  crew  of  a  ship  that  founders  in  mid-ocean. 

The  moment  that  we  take  in  hand  this  work  we  shall  be 
compelled  to  turn  our  attention  seriously  to  the  question 
whether  prevention  is  not  better  than  cure.  It  is  easier  and 
cheaper,  and  in  every  way  better,  to  prevent  the  loss 
of  home  than  to  have  to  re-create  that  home.  It  is  better  to  keep  a 
man  out  of  the  mire  than  to  let  him  fall  in  first  and  then  risk  the 
chance  of  plucking  him  out.  Any  Scheme,  therefore,  that  attempts 
to  deal  with  the  reclamation  of  the  lost  must  tend  to  develop  into  an 
endless,  variety  of  ameliorative  measures,  of  some  of  which  I  shall 
have  somewhat  to  say  hereafter.  I  only  mention  the  subject  here  in 
order  that  no  one  may  say  I  am  blind  to  the  necessity  of  going  further 
and '^adopting  wider  plans  of  operation  than  those  which  I  put 
lorward  in  tiiis  book;.  ^The  renovation  of  our  Social  System,  is  a 


IV; 


w 


•r 


44' 


O.M    THE    VERGE    OF    THE    ABYSS. 


I 


work  so  vast  that  no  one  of  us,  nor  all  of  us  put  together,  can  define 
all  the  measures  that  will  have  to  be  taken  before  we  attain  even  the 
Cab-Horse  Ideal  of  existence  for  our  children  and  children's 
children.  All  that  we  can  do  is  to  attack,  in  a  serious,  practical 
spirit  the  worst  and  most  pressing  evils,  knowing  that  if  we  do  our 
duty  we  obey  the  voice  of  God.  He  is  the  Captain  of  our  Salvation. 
If  we  but  follow  where  He  leads  we  shall  not  want  for  marching  orders, 
nor  need  we  imagine  that  He  will  narrow  the  field  of  operations. 

I  am  labouring  under  no  delusions  as  to  the  possibility  of  inaugu- 
rating the  Millennium  by  any  social  specific.  In  the  struggle  of  life 
the  weakest  will  go  to  the  wall,  and  there  are  so  many  weak.  The 
fittest,  in  tooth  and  claw,  will  survive.  All  that  we  can  do  is  to 
soften  the  lot  of  the  unfit  and  make  their  suffering  less  horrible  than 
it  is  at  present.  No  amount  of  assistance  will  give  a  jellyfish  a  back- 
bone. No  outside  propping  will  make  some  men  stand  erect.  All 
material  help  from  without  is  useful  only  in  so  far  as  it  develops 
moral  strength  within.  And  some  men  seem  to  have  lost  even  the 
very  faculty  of  self-help.  There  is  an  immense  lack  of  common 
sense  and  of  vital  energy  on  the  part  of  multitudes. 

It  is  against  Stupidity  in  every  shape  and  form  that  we  have  to 
wage  our  eternal  battle.  But  how  can  we  wonder  at  the  want  of  sense 
on  the  part  of  those  who  have  had  no  advantages,  when  we  see  such 
plentiful  absence  of  that  commodity  on  the  part  of  those  who  have 
had  all  the  advantages  ? 

How  can  we  marvel  if,  after  leaving  generation  after  generation 
to  grow,  up  uneducated  and  underfed,  there  should  be  developed  a 
heredity  of  incapacity,  and  that  thousands  of  dull-witted  people 
should  be  bom  into  the  world,  disinherited  before  their  birth  of  their 
share  in  the  average  intelligence  of  mankind  ? 

Besides  those  who  are  thus  hereditarily  wanting  in  the  qualities 
necessary  to  enable  them  to  hold  their  own,  there  are  the 
weak,  the  disabled,  the  aged,  and  the  unskilled ;  worse  than  all, 
there  is  the  want  of  character.  Those  who  have  the  best  of  reputa- 
tion, if  they  lose  their  foothold  on  the  ladder,  find  it  difficult  enough 
to  regain  their  place.  What,  then,  can  men  and  women  who  have  no 
character  do  ?  When  a  master  has  the  choice  of  a  hundred  honest 
men,  is  it  reasonable  to  expect  that  he  will  select  a  poor  fellow  with 
tarnished  reputation  ? 

■MX  this  is  true,  and  it  is  one  of  the  things  that  makes  the  problem 
iHmost  insoluble.    And  insoluble  it  is,  I  am  absolutely  convisu:ed, 


ui 

wl 
bf 


Saving  the  body  to  save  the  soul: 


45 


",  can  define 
in  even  the 
children's 
's,  practical 
we  do  our 
"  Salvation, 
ling  orders, 
ations. 
of  inaugu- 
ggle  of  life 
eak.     The 
n  do  is  to 
rrible  than 
ish  a  back- 
irect.     All 
t  develops 
t  even  the 
f  common 

^e  have  to 
It  of  sense 
e  see  such 
who  have 

feneration 
veloped  a 
:d  people 
h  of  liieir 

qualities 

are  the 
than  all, 
f  reputa- 
t  enough 

have  no 
d  honest 
low  with 


unless  it  is  possible  to  bring  new  moral  life  into  the  soul  of  these 
people.  This  should  be  the  first  object  of  every  social  reformer,  whose 
work  will  only  last  if  it  is  built  on  the  solid  foundation  of  a  new 
birth,  to  cry  "  You  must  be  born  again  " 

To  get  a  man  soundly  saved  it  is  not  enough  to  put  on  him  a  pair 
of  new  breeches,  to  give  him  regular  work,  or  even  to  give  him  a 
University  education.  These  things  are  all  outside  a  man,  and  if  the 
inside  remains  unchanged  you  have  wasted  your  labour.  You  must 
in  some  way  or  other  graft  upon  the  man's  nature  a  new  nature, 
which  has  in  it  the  clement  of  the  Divine.  All  that  I  propose  in  this 
book  is  governed  by  that  principle. 

The  diflference  between  the  method  which  seeks  to  regenerate  the 
man  by  ameliorating  his  circumstances  and  that  which  ameliorates 
his  dfCmttSfalices^n  order  to  get  at  the  receneratronoTliirRtart, 
is  tne"  dincrehce  between  the  method  of  the  gardener  who  grafts  a 
Ribstone  Pippin  on  a  crab-apple  tree  and  one  who  merely  ties 
appTds  witn  string  upon  tne  branches  of  the  crab.  To  change  the 
nature  of  tiiemdmduat,  W'g^T'Sr  1^^^^  soul  is  the 

only  real,  lasting  method  of  doing  him  any  good.  In  many  modem 
schemes  of  social  regeneration  it  is  forgotten  that  "  it  takes  a  soul 
to  move  a  body,  e'en  to  a  cleaner  sty,"  and  at  the  risk  of  being  mis- 
understood and  misrepresented,  I  must  assert  in  the  most  un- 
qualified way  that  it  is  primarily  and  mainly  for  the  sake  of  saving 
the  soul  that  I  seek  the  salvation  of  the  body 

But  what  is  the  use  of  preaching  the  Gospel  to  men  whose  whole 


attention  is  concentrated  upon  a  mad,  desperate  |$l3Jl|(gll§,Jj?  Ji'^cp 


thefiiSelve^"  alive  ?    You  ni i gTiC  aj 'W€tf  gfve  a  tract  to 


sailoir Ivlio'is  battling  wi'tmTie'suri  wHicli  Kas  drowned  his  pflpurades 

and-  tm'etfffflfjgr'tirttretw'ttli^-*^  he 

canHSTTTeaV  you^an^'rriore  than  a  man  whose  head  is  under  water 
can  listen  to  a  sermon.  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get  him  at  leasl 
a  footing  on  firm  ground,  and  to  give  him  room  to  live.  Then  you 
may  have  a  chance.  At  present  you  have  none.  And  you  will 
have  all  the  better  opportunity  to  find  a  way  to  his  heart,  if  hf 
comes  to  know  that  it  was  you  who  pulled  him  out  of  the  horrible 
pit  and  the  miry  clay  in  which  he  was  sinking  to  perdition. 


problem 
iviaced, 


*5^j:^?TT'.' Ur— - 


il    ■■ 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE  VICIOUS 

^  Tliere  are  many  vices  and  Bcven  deadly  sins.  But  of  late  years 
inany  of  the  seven  huv  e  contrived  to  pass  themselves  off  as  virtues. 
Avarice,  for  instance ;  and  Pride,  when  re-baptised  thriH:  and  self> 
respect,  have  become  the  guardian  angels  of  Christian  civilisation ; 
and  as  for  Envy,  it  is  the  corner-stone  upon  which  much  of  our 
competitive  system  is  founded.  There  are  still  two  vices  which  are 
fortunate,  or  unfortunate,  enough  to  remain  undisguised,  not  even 
concealing  from  themselves  the  fact  that  they  are  vices  and  not 
,virtues.  One  is'  drunkenness ;  the  other  fornication.  The  vicious- 
ness  of  these  vices  is  so  little  disguised,  even  from  those  who 
habitually  practise  them,  that  there  will  be  a  protest  against  merely 
describing  one  of  them  by  the  right  Biblical  name.  Why  not  say 
prostitution  ?  ,  For  this  reason  :  prostitution  is  a  word  applied  to 
only  one  half  of  the  vice,  and  that  the  most  pitiable.  Fornication 
hits  both  sinners  alike.     Prostitution  applies  only  to  the  woman. 

When,  however,  we  cease  to  regard  this  vice  from  the  point  of 
view  of  morality  and  religion,  and  look  at  it  solely  as  a  factor  in  the 
social  problem,  the  word  prostitution  is  less  objectionable.  For  the 
social  burden  of  thJs  vice  is  borne  almost  entirely  by  women.  The 
maf^mneraoSTJS!7lJy^tH€^^'^^^^^^^  himself  in  a 

worse  position  in  obtaining  employment,  in  finding  a  home,  or  even 
in  securing  a  wife.  His  wrong-doine  only  hits  him  in  his  purse,  or, 
perhaps,  in  his  health.  His  incontinence,  excepting  so  far  as 
it  mates  to  the  woman  whose  degradation  it  necessitates,  does  not 
add  to  the  number  of  those  for  whom  society  has  to  provide.  It  is 
an  immense  addition  to  the  infamy  of  this  vice  in  man  that 
its  consequences  have  -to  t^  borne  ahnost  exclusively  by  woman-. 

The  difficulty  of  dealing  with  drunkards  and  harlots  is  almost 
iinaunnouptablc/^^ ^toa .U^nQt  that  I  utterjy ^gpudiate  asa/unda- 


m 


of  late  years 
off  as  virtues, 
rift  and  self- 
1  civilisation ; 
much  of  our 
ces  which  are 
»ed,  not  even 
ices  and  not 

The  vicious- 
n  those  who 
gainst  merely 
Why  not  say 
rd  applied  to 
Fornication 
;  woman. 

the  point  of 

factor  in  the 
ble.  For  the 
iromen.  The 
I  himself  in  a 
ome,  or  even 
lis  purse,  or, 
g  SO  far  as 
tes,  does  not 
ovide.  It  is 
in  man  that 
womaih. 
a  is  almost 

asaiiuuia-: 


NOT!  BORN    BUT    DAMNED    INTO    THE    WORLD.»'       ,47 

(' ..,^-.  '•  ~ ■; ~ — ;■ — ::! ^~~" — -svvi- -4 

mental  denial  of  the  essential  principle  'of  the  Chstian  religion  the 

popular  pseudo-scientific  doctrine  that  any  man  or  woman  is  past 
saving  by  the  grace  of  God  and  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  would 
sometimes  be  disposed  to  despair  when  contemplating  these  victims 
of  the  Devil.  The  doctrine  of  Heredity^nd  the  suggestion  ot  Irre- 
sponsibility come  perilously  near  re-establishing,  on  scientific  bases/ 
the  awful  dogma  of  Reprobation  which  has  cast  so  terrible  a  shadow 
over  the  Christian  Church.  For  thousands  upon  thousands  of  these 
poor  wretches  are,  as  Bishop  South  truly  said,  "  not  so -much  born 
into  this  world  as  damned  into  it."  The  bastard  of  a  harlot,  bom  in 
a  brothel,  suckled  on  gin,  and  familiar  from  earliest  infancy  wTHTiall 
the  oeSlramiH  of  debauch,  violated  before  she  .i§«.tw«Jve»<4nd.4Qven 
out  mto  the  Sfreets  by  her  mother  a  year  or  two  later,  what  chance  is 
there  lor  sucn  a  girl  in  this  world — I  say  nothing  about  the. next? 


li'i'!**/^' 


..■j3*-^.'C»t?*-" 


YersiJcfriTdase  is  riot  exc^^  There  are  many  such  differing 

in  detail,  but  in  essentials  the  same.  And  with  boys  it  is  almost 
as  bad.  There  are  thousands  who  were  begotten  when  both 
parents  were  besotted  with  drink,  whose  mothers  saturated  them-, 
selves  with  alcohol  every  day  of  their  pregnancy,  who  may,  be 
said  to  have  sucked  in  a  taste  for  strong  drink  with  their  mothers* 
milk,  and  who  were  surrounded  from  childhood  with  opportunities 
and  incitements  to  drink.  How  can  we  marvel  that  the  constitution 
thus  disposed  to  intemperance  finds  the  stimulus  of  drink  indispen- 
sable? Even  if  they  make  a  stand  against  it,  the  increasing 
pressure  of  exhaustion  and  of  scanty  food  drives  them  back  to  the 
cup.  Of  these  poor  wretches,  born  slaves  of  the  bottle,  predestined 
to  drunkenness  from  their  mother's  womb,  there  are — who  can  say 
•  how  many?  Yet  they  are  all  men;  all  with  what  the  Russian 
peasants  call  "  a  spark  of  God  "  in  them,  which  can  never  be  wholly 
obscured  and  destroyed  while  life  exists,  and  if  any  social  scheme  is 
to  be  comprehensive  a^d  practical  it  must  deal  with  these  men.  It 
must  provide  for  the  drunkard  and  the  harlot  as  i*  ,^-ovides  for  the 
improvident  and  the  out-of-work.  But  who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things  ? 

I  will  take  the  question  of  the  drunkard,  for  thedrink  difficulty  lies 


at  the  root  of  everything.     Nine-tenths  of  our  povertyTSl^pSWffWfce, 
and  cnme  springTromn^his  poisonous  lap-rool.     many  of  our  social. 


evils,  wiiitTTovershadQw  ,JJie.laS^  nany  upas  trees^ould 

dwmale  aw.w  and  die  if  they  were  not  constantJxJS^tessft^iKUh, strong 
driiS^^"    Ipni"  agreement  on  that  point  ;>  in  fact|^thQ 


w 


M!J 


.^8 


THE    VICIQUS. 


agreement  as  to  the  evils  of  intemperance  is  almost  as  universal  as 
.the  conviction  that  politicians  will  do  nothing  practical  to  interfere 
with  them.  In  Ireland,  Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  says  that  intemperanre 
leads  to  nineteen-twentieths  of  the  crime  in  that  country,  but  no  one 
proposes  a  Coercion  Act  to  deal  with  that  evil.  In  England, 
the  judges  all  say  the  same  thing.  Of  course  it  is  a  mistake 
to  assume  that  a  murder,  for  instance,  would  never  be  committed  by 
sober  men,  because  murderers  in  most  cases  prime  themselves  for 
their  deadly  work  by  a  glass  of  Dutch  courage.  But  the  facility  of 
securing  a  reinforcement  of  passion  undoubtedly  tends  to  render 
always  dangerous,  and  sometimes  irresistible,  the  temptation  to  violate 
the  laws  of  God  and  man. 

Mere  lectures  against  the  evil  habit  are,  however,  of  no  avail. 
\  We  have  to  recognise,  that  the  gin-palace,  like  many  other  evils, 
\  although  a  poisonous,  is  still  a  natural  outgrowth  of  our  social  con- 
I  ditions.    The  tap-room  in  many  cases  is  the  poor  man's  only  parlour. 
I  Many  a  man  takes  to  beer,  not  from  the  love  of  beer,  but  from  a 
\natural  craving  for  the  light,  warmth,  company,  and  comfort  which  is 
jthrown  in  along  with  the  beer,  and  which  he  cannot  get  excepting  by 
buying  beer.     Reformergjgj)j|  neypr  gPi*  "'"*   '^  **•"  ■'■•■'"''  "^-p  ••"*•' 
they  can  outbid  it  in  the  subsidiary  attractions  JVhii^jLjofffira  to  its 
customers.     1  hen,  again,  let  us  never  forget  that  the  temptation  to 
•drtinflS'  strongest  when  want  is  sharpest  and  misery  the  most  acute. 
A  well-fed  man  is  not  driven  to  drink  by  the  craving  that  torments 
the  hungry;  and  the  comfortable  do  not  crave'  for  the  boon  of  for- 
getfulness.     Gin  is  the  only  Lethe  of  the  miserable.     The  foul  and 
poisoned  air  of  the  dens  in  which  thousands  live  predisposes  to  a 
longing  for  stimulant.      Fresh  air,  with  its  oxygen  and  its  ozone, 
being  lacking,  a  man  supplies  the  want  with  spirit.     After  a  time  the 
longing  for  drink  becomes  a  mania.     Li<e  seems  as  insupportable  with- 
out alcohol  as  without  food.     It  is  a  diseabc  often  inherited,  alv ;  ys  de- 
veloped by  indulgence,  but  as  clearly  a  disease  as  ophthalmia  or  stone. 
All  this  should  predispose  us  to  charity  and  sympathy.    While 
recognising  that  the  primary  responsibility  must  always  rest  upon 
the  individual,  we  may  fairly  insist  that  society,  which,  by  its  habits, 
its  customs,  and  its  laws,  has  greased  the  slope  down  which  these 
poor  creatures  slide  to  perdition,  shall  seriously  take  in  hand  their 
salvation. 

^ow  many  are  there  who  are,  more  or  less,  under  the  dominion 
pf  stroni^rink  ?    Statistics  abound,  but  they  seldom  tell  us  what 


universal  as 

10  interfere 
nfemperflnre 
',  but  no  one 
[n  England, 
)  a  mistake 
)nimitted  by 
smselves  for 
le  facility  of 
Is  to  render 
ion  to  violate 

[>f  no  avail, 
other  evils, 
r  social  con- 
mly  parlour. 
,  but  from  a 
!brt  which  is 
excepting  by 
>«.^ep^  until 
ofiera  to  its 
mptation  to 
most  acute, 
at  torments 
3oon  of  for- 
ie  foul  and 
isposes  to  a 
I  its  ozone, 
r  a  time  the 
rtable  with- 

alv-  f  ys  de- 
iia  or  stone, 
ly.    While 

rest  upon 
|Mts^habitri, 
rhich  these 
hand  their 

I  dominion 

11  us  what 


WANTED,    A    CENSUS   OF    DRUNKARDS. 


4d 


we  want  to  know.  We  know  how  many  public-houses  there  are  in 
the  land,  and  how  many  arrests  for  drunkenness  the  police  make  in 
a  year ;  but  beyond  that  we  know  little.  Everyone  knows  that  for 
one  man  who  is  arrested  for  drunkenness  there  are  at  least  ten- 
and  often  twenty — who  go  home  intoxicated.  In  London,  for 
iribtmce,  there  are  14,000  drink  shops,  and  every  year  20,000 
persons  are  arrested  for  drunkenness.  But  who  can  for  a  moment 
believe  that  there  are  only  20,000,  more  or  less,  habitual  drunkards 
in  London  ?  By  habitual  drunkard  I  do  not  mean  one  who  is 
always  drunk,  but  one  who  is  so  much  under  the  dominion  of  th" 
evil  habit  that  he  cannot  be  depended  upon  not  to  get  drunk  wlien- 
ever  the  opportunity  offers. 

In  the  United  Kingdom  there  are  190,000' public-houses,  and 
every  year  there  are  200,000  arrests  for  drunkenness.  Of  course, 
several  of  these  arrests  refer  to  the  same  person,  who  is  locked  up 
again  and  again.  Were  this  not  so,  if  we  allowed  six  drunkards  to 
each  house  as  an  average,  or  five  habitual  drunkards  for  one  arrested 
for  drunkenness,  we  should  arrive  at  a  total  of  a  million  adults  who 
are  more  or  less  prisoners  of  the  publican  —as  a  matter  of  fact, 
Isaac  Hoyle  gives  i  -in  1 2  of  the'acluTE'p6](Jtilation.  This  may  be  an 
excessive  estimate,  but,  if  we  take  half  of  a  million,  we  shall 
not  be  accused  of  exaggeration.  Of  iJiese  some  are  in  the  last  stagr 
of  confirmed  dipsomania ;  others  are  but  over  the  verge;  but  the 
procession  tends  ever  downwards. 

The  loss  which  the  maintenance  of  this  huge  standing  army  of  a 
half  of  a    million  of  men  who  are  more  or  less  always  besotted 
men  whose  intemperance  impairs  their  working  power,  consumes  their 
earnings,  and  renders  theirTTomes  wretcliea,  has  long  beltrSlamiliar 
theme 'of  the  ptanorm.'^^iar'l^lTSr'caPi'be  done  for  them?     Total 
abstinence  is  no  doubt  admirable,  but  how  are  you  to  get  tfiem  to  be 
totally  abstinent  ?     When  a  man  is  drowning  in  mid-ocean  the  one 
thing  that  is  needful,  no  doubt,  is  that  he  should  plant  his  feet  firmly 
on  terra  firma.     But  how  is  he  to  get  there  ?      It  is  just  what  he 
cannot  do.  And  so  it  is  with  the  drunkards.  If  they  are  to  be  rescued 
there  must  be  something  more  done  for  them  than  at  present  is 
attempted,  unless,  of  course,  we  decide  definitely  to  allow  the  iron 
laws  of  nature  to  work  themselves   out  in   their  destruction.     In 
that  .case  .it  might  r  be  more  merciful  to  facilitate  the  slow  .workings 
pf;,natural .  law.     There  is  no  need  of  establishing  a  lethal  chamber 
lciklrjmkar.dsiJ(ikev4]xat^nto  which  the  lost  dogs  .pf  Loadoniiire 


■'■  1' 


I 


' 


il 


so 


m 


THE  vicious; 


driven,  to  die  in  peaceful  sleep  under  the  influence  of  carbonic  oxide. 
The  State  would  only  need  to  go  a  little  further  than  it  goes  at 
present  in  the  way  of  supplying  poison  to  the  community.  If,  in 
addition  to  planting  a  flaming  gin  palace  at  each  corner,  free  to  all 
who  enter,  it  were  to  supply  free  gin  to  all  who  have  attained  a 
certain  recognised  standard  of  inebriety,  delirium  tremens  would 
3oon  reduce  our  druni<en  population  to  manageable  proportions. 
I  can  imagine ;.  a  cynical  millionaire  of  the  scientific  philan- 
thropic school  making  a  clearance  of  all  the  drunkards  in  a 
district  by  the  simple  expedient  of  an  unlimited  allowance 
of  alcohol.  But  that  for  us  is  out  of  the  question.  The  problem 
of  what  to  do  with  our  half  of  a  million  drunkards  remains  to  be 
solved,  and  few  more  difficult  questions  confront  the  social  reformer. 
The  question  of  the  harlots  is,  however,  quite  as  insoluble  by  the 
ordinary  methods.  For  these  unfortunates  no  one  who  looks  below 
the  surface  can  fail  to  have  the  deepest  sympathy.  Some  there  are. 
no  doubt,  perhaps  many,  who — whether  from  inherited  passion  or 
from  evil  education — have  deliberately  embarked  upon  a  life  of  vice, 
but  with  the  majority  it  is  not  so.  Even  those  who  deliberately 
and  of  free  choice  adopt  the  profession  of  a  prostitute,  do  so 
under  the  stress  of  temptations  which  few  moralists  seem  to  realise. 
Terrible  as  the  fact  is,  there  is  no  doubt  it  is  a  fact  that  there  is  r 
industrial  career  in  which  for  a  short  time  a  beautiful  girl  can  m: 
as  much  money  with  as  little  trouble  as  the  profession  of  a  courtesan. 
The  case  recently  tried  at  the  Lewes  assizes,  in  which  the  wife  ol 
an  officer  in  the  army  admitted  that  while  living  as  a  kept  mistress 
she  had  received  as  much  as  ;^4,ooo  a  year,  was  no  doubt  very- 
exceptional.  Even  the  most  successful  adventuresses  seldom  make 
the  income  of  a  Cabinet  Minister.  But  take  women  in  professions 
and  in  businesses  all  round,  and  the  number  of  young  women  who 
have  received  ;^500  in  one  year  for  the  sale  of  their  person  is 
larger  than  the  number  of  women  of  all  ages  who  make  a  similar  sum 
by  honest  industry.  It  is  only  the  very  few  who  draw  these  gilded 
orizes,  and  they  only  do  it  for  a  very  short  time.  But  it  is 
*he  few  prizes  in  every  profession  which  allure  the  multitude;  who 
think  little  of  the  many  blanks.  And  speaking  broadly,  vice  offers 
to  every  good-looking  girl  during  the  first  bloom  of  her  youth  and 
beauty  more  money  than  she  can  earn  by  labour  in  any  field  of 
industry  open  to  her  sex.  >•  The  penalty  exacted  afterwards  is  disease, 
deflradatinn  flnH  death';  but  these  things  at  first  are  hidden  from  hetsight.j 


FROM    THE    REGISTER   OP   THE    RESCUE    HOME.' 


61 


3onIc  oxide. 
1  it  goes  at 
lity.     If,  in 
free  to  all 
attained  a 
lens   would 
proportions, 
fie    philan- 
ards    in    a 
allowance 
he  problem 
nains  to  be 
al  reformer, 
uble  by  the 
looks  below 
e  there  are. 
passion  or 
life  of  vice, 
deliberately 
ute,   do    so 
n  to  realise, 
there  is  r 
rl  can  m; 
I  courtesan, 
the  wife  of 
pt  mistress 
doubt  very 
Idom  make 
professions 
vomen  who 
r  person  is 
similar  sum 
hese  gilded 
But  it   is 
titude;  who 
vice  offers 
youth  and 
ly  field  of 
s  is  disease, 
n  hersight.j 


The  profession  of  a  prostitute  is  the  only  career  in  which  the 
maximum  income  is  paid  to  the  newest  apprentice.  It  is  the  one 
calliug  in  which  at  the  beginning  the  only  exertion  is  that  of  self- 
indulgence  ;  all  the  prizes  are  at  the  commencement.  It  is  the  ever- 
new  embodiment  of  the  old  fable  of  the  sale  of  the  soul  to  the  Devil. 
The  tempter  offers  wealth,  comfort,  excitement,  but  in  return  the 
victim  must  sell  her  soul,  nor  docs  the  other  party  forget  to  exact 
his  due  to  the  uttermost  farthing.  Human  nature,  however,  is 
short-sighted.  Giddy  girls,  chafing  against  the  restraints  of  uncon- 
genial industry,  see  the  glittering  bait  continually  before  them. 
They  are  told  that  if  they  will  but  "  do  as  others  do "  they  will 
make  more  in  a  night,  if  they  are  lucky,  than  they  can  make 
in  a  week  at  their  sewing ;  and  who  can  wonder  that  in  many  cases 
the  irrevocable  step  is  taken  before  they  realise  that  it  is  irrevocable, 
and  that  they  have  bartered  away  the  future  of  their  lives  for  the 
paltry  chance  of  a  year'o  ill-gotten  gains  ? 

Of  the  severity  of  the  punishment  there  can  be  no  question.  If  the 
premium  is  high  at  the  bcginnin*g,  the  penalty  is  terrible  at  the  close. 
And  this  penalty  is  exacted  equally  from  those  who  have  deliberately 
said, "Evil, be  thou  my  Good," and  for  those  who  have  been  decoyed, 
snared,  trapped  into  the  life  which  is  a  living  death.  When  you  see 
a  girl  on  the  street  you  can  never  say  without  enquiry  whether  she 
is  one  of  the  most-to-be  condemned,  or  the  most-to-be  pitied  of  her 
sex.  Many  of  them  find  themselves  where  they  are  because  of  a  too 
trusting  disposition,  confidence  born  of  innocence  being  often  the 
unsuspecting  ally  of  the  procuress  and  seducer.  Others  are  as  much 
the  innocent  victims  of  crime  as  if  they  had  been  stabbed  or  maimed 
by  the  dagger  of  the  assassin.  The  records  of  our  Rescue  Homes 
abound  with  life-stories,  some  of  which  we  have  been  able  to  verify 
to  the  letter — which  prove  only  too  conclusively  the  existence  of 
numbers  of  innocent  victims  whose  entry  upon  this  dismal  life  can 
in  no  way  be  attributed  to  any  act  of  their  own  will.  Many  are 
orphans  or  the  children  of  depraved  mothers,  whose  one  idea  of  a 
daughter  is  to  make  money  out  of  her  prostitution.  Here  are  a  few 
cases  on  our  register : — 

E.  C,  aged  i8,  a  soldier's  child,  born  on  the  sea.  Her  father  died,  and  her 
mother,  a  thoroughly  depraved  wonvaa,  assisted  to  secure  her  daughter's  prostitu- 
tion. 

P.  ^^^ajged  20.  illegitimate  child.  Went  to  consult  a  doctor  one  tin\p'about 
some  ailmenU    The  doctur  abused  his  position  aud  took  advantjige  uf iiivjg^ 


-  :»t 

I 


•u 


■t. 

f. 


H 


62; 


THE   VICIOUS. 


M 


k 


r   'r 


hi 


V4 


f,\    ' 


!'^ 


and  when  she  complained,  gave  li*.:  ^4  as  compensation.  When  that  was  $geiJt, 
having  lost  her  character,  she  came  >n  the  town.  We  looked  the  doctor  up,  anU 
he  fled. 

E.  A.^  aged  J 7,  was  left  an  orphan  very  early  in  life,  and  adopted  by  her  god- 
father, who  himself  was  the  means  of  her  ruin  at  the  age  of  10, 

A  girl  in  her  teens  lived  with  her  mother  in  the  "  Dusthole,"  the  lowest  part  ot 
Woolwich.  This  woman  forced  her  out  upon  the  streets,  and  profited  by  her 
prostitution  up  to  the  veiy  night  of  her  confinement.  The  mother  had  all  the  time 
been  the  receiver  of  the  gains. 

E.,  neither  father  nor  mother,  was  taV^n  care  nl  by  a  grandmother  till,  at  an 
early  age,  accounted  old  enough.  Married  a  sr  Idier ;  but  shortly  before  the  birth 
of  her  first  child,  found  that  her  deceiver  had  i  wife  and  family  in  a  distant  part 
of  the  country,  and  she  was  soon  left  friendless  and  alone.  She  sought  an 
asylum  in  the  Workhouse  for  a  few  weeks,  after  which  she  vainly  tried  to  get 
honest  employment.  Failing  that,  and  being  on  the  very  verge  of  starvation, 
she  entered  a  lodging-house  in  Westminster  and  "  did  as  other  girls."  Here 
our  lieutenant  found  and  persuaded  her  to  leave  and  enter  one  of  our  Homes, 
where  she  soon  gave  abundant  proof  of  her  conversion  by  a  thoroughly  changed 
life.    She  is  now  a  faithful  and  trusted  servant  in  a  clergyman's  family. 

A  girl  was  some  time  ago  discharged  from  a  city  hospital  after  an  illness. .  She 
was  homeless  and  friendless,  an  orphan,  and  obliged  to  work  for  her  living. 
Walking  down  the  street  and  wondering  what  she  should  do  next,  she  met  a  girl, 
who  came  up  to  her  in  a  most  friendly  fashion  and  speedily  won  her  confidence. 

"Discharged  ill,  and  nowhere  to  go,  are  you?"  said  her  new  friend.  "Well, 
come  home  to  my  mother's ;  she  will  lodge  you,  and  we'll  go  to  work  together, 
when  you  are  quite  strong." 

The  girl  consented  gladly,  but  found  herself  conducted  to  the  very  lowest 
part  of  Woolwich  an^*  ^ishered  Into  a  brothel;  there  was  no  mother  in  the  case. 
She  was  hoaxed,  and  powerless  to  resist.  Her  protestations  were  too  late  to 
save  her,  and  having  had  her  character  forced  from  hei  she  became  hopeless, 
and  stayed  on  to  live  the  life  of  her  false  friend. 

There  is  no  need  for  me  to  go  into  the  details  of  the  way  in  which 
men  and  women,  whose  whole  livelihood  depends  upon  their  success 
in  disarming  the  suspicions  of  their  victims  and  luring  them  to  their 
doom,  contrive  to  overcome  the  reluctance  of  the  young  girl  without 
parents,  friends,  or  helpers  to  enter  their  toils.  What  fraud  fails  to 
accomplish,  a  little  force  succeeds  in  effecting;  and  a  girl  who  has 
been  guilty  of  nothing  but  imprudence  finds  herself  n  outcast  for 
life.' 

l)hc  vffy.  ioxiocance  of  a  girl  ti^lls  against  her.  A  woman  ot 
the  wor^  once '  cntrapDcd,  wouliJ  have  all  her  wits  about  her  to 


THE    VICTIMS    OF  IGNORANT    INNOCENCE'. 


iS3 


It  was  $geni, 
»ctor  up,  and 

by  her  god- 
west  part  ol 
ited  by  her 
all  the  time 

er  till,  at  an 
ore  the  birth 
distant  part 
J  sought  an 
tried  to  get 
:  starvation, 
iris."  Here 
our  Homes, 
hly  changed 
ily. 

llness.  She 
•  her  living, 
e  met  a  girl, 
confidence, 
id.  "Well, 
k  together, 

very  lowest 
in  the  case. 
!  too  late  to 
le  hopeless, 

r  in  which 
ir  success 
m  to  their 
rl  without 
jd  fails  to 
!  who  has 
Litcast  for 


woman  oi 
Lit  her  to 


,  _  . — tneir  mai 'en  daughters,  they  are  crushed  beneath  the  mill- 


extricate  herself  from  the  position  in  whicii  she  found  herself.  i/"A 
perfectly  virtuous  girl  is  often  so  overcome  with  shame  and  horror 
t.iat  there  seems  nothing  in  life  worth  struggling  for.  She  accepts 
her  doom  without  further  struggle,  and  treads  the  long  and  torturing 
path-way  of  "  the  streets  "  to  the  grave. 

"  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged  "  is  a  saying  that  applies  most 
appropriately  of  all  to  thesi  unfortunates.  Many  of  them  would 
have  escaped  their  evil  fate  had  they  been  less  innocent.  They  are 
where  they  are  because  they  loved  too  utterly  to  calculate  con- 
sequences, and  trusted  too  absolutely  to  dare  to  suspect  evil.  And 
others  are  there  because  of  the  false  education  which  confounds 
ignorance  with  virtue,  and  throws  our  young  people  into  the  midst 
of  a  great  city,  with  all  its  excitements  and  all  its  temptations,  with- 
out more  preparation  or  warning  than  if  they  were  going  to  live  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden. 

Whatever  sin  they  have  committed,  a  terrible  penalty  is  exacted. 
While  the  man^jwho  caused  their  ruin  passes  as  a  respectable 
member  of  soaew,  to '^^^  he 

is  rich 
stone  oT'^ocLi^l  (e^j?,CQjtjiiiwjpi«at»oii. 

Here  let  me  quote  from  a  report  made  to  me  by  the  head  of  our 
Rescue  Homes  as  to  the  actual  life  of  these  unfortiinates. 

The  following  hundred  cases  are  taken  as  they  come  from  our  Rescue 
Register.  The  statements  are  those  of  the  girls  themselves.  They  are 
certainly  frank,  and  it  will  be  noticed  that  only  two  out  of  the  hundred  allege 
that  they  took  to  the  life  out  of  poverty : —  ' 

Cause  of  Fall 

Condition  when  Applying. 

Rags  ...           ...  ...           25 

Destitution       ...  ,„            27 

Decently  dressed  ...           48 

Total    100 
Total    100 

Out  of  these  girls  twenty-three  have  been  m  prison. 

The  giria  suffer  so  much  that  the  shortness  of  their  njMi^rsible  life  is  the  ooly 
redeeming  feature.  Whether  we  look  at  the  wretchedness  of  the  liJPfc  itself;  tlMSP" 
lierpetual  intexicatisn  ;  the  cruel  treatment  to  which  they  are  subjected  by  their 
tas1c..i«afiters  and  nisttMses  er  bullies ;  the  hopelessness,  suffieniig  «nd  despair 
iSiiuss^^ihsiLcijricuaitaACM  «a4  surreuMlings ;  tbe  41eptks>f  misery^  de^ra- 


Drink... 

14 

Seduction         ... 

33 

Wilful  choice   ... 

24 

Bad  company  ... 

27 

Poverty 

2 

mm 


II     ,iTii<lir-i  iiiiiiji^jl ;iiiii,^J 1_1.-?.—  -^    ..-.U.-'! 


wmm. 


«4' 


rrHE  vicious: 


. 


dation  and  poverty  to  which:  tlicy  eventually  descend;  or  their  treatment  in 
sickness,  their  friendlessness  and  loneliness  in  death,  it  must  be  admitted  that  a 
more  dismal  lot  seldom  faUs  to  the  fate  of  a  human  being.  I  will  take  each  ot 
these  in  turn. 

Health. — This  life  induces  insanity,  rheumatism,  consumption,  and  all  forms 
of  syphilis.  Rheumatism  and  gout  are  the  commonest  of  these  evils.  Some 
were  quite  crippled  by  both — young  though  they  were.  Consumption  sows  its 
seeds  broadcast.  The  life  is  a  hot-bed  for  the  development  of  any  constitutional 
and  hereditary  germs  of  the  disease.  We  have  found  girls  in  Piccadilly  at  mid- 
night who  are  continually  prostrated  by  haemorrhage,  yet  who  have  no  other 
way  of  life  open,  so  struggle  on  in  this  awful  manner  between  whiles. 

Drink. — This  is  an  inevitable  part  of  the  business.  All  confess  that  they 
could  never  lead  their  miserable  lives  if  it  were  not  for  its  influence. 

A  girl,  who  was  educated  at  college,  and  who  had  a  home  in  which  was  every 
comfort,  but  who,  when  ruined,  had  fallen  even  to  the  depth  of  Woolwich 
"  Dusthole,"  exclaimed  to  us  indignantly — "  Do  you  think  I  could  ever,  ever  do 
this  if  it  weren't  for  the  drink  ?  I  always  have  to  be  in  drink  if  I  wani^to  sin." 
No  girl  has  ever  come  into  our  Homes  from  steet-life  but  has  been  moTB  or  less 
a  prey  to  drink. 

Cruel  Treatment. — The  devotion  of  these  women  to  their  bullies  is  as 
remarkable  as  the  brutality  of  their  bullies  is  abominable.  Probably  the  primary 
cause  of  the  fall  of  numberless  girls  of  the  lower  class,  is  their  great  aspiration 
to  the  dignity  of  wifehood  ; — they  are  never  "  somebody  "  until  they  are  married, 
and  will  link  themselves  to  any  creature,  no  matter  how  debased,  in  the  hope  ot 
being  ultimately  married  by  him.  This  consideration,  in  addition  to  their  help- 
less condition  when  once  character  has  gone,  makes  them  suffer  cruelties 
which  they  would  never  otherwise  endure  from  the  men  with  whom  large 
numbers  of  them  live. 

One  case  in  illustration  of  this  is  that  of  a  girl  who  was  once  a  respectable 
servant,  the  daughter  of  a  police  sergeant.  She  was  ruined,  and  shame  led  her 
to  leave  home.  At  length  she  drifted  to  Woolwich,  where  she  came  across  a 
man  who  persuaded  her  to  hve  with  him,  and  for  a  considcrnbic  length  of  time 
she  kept  him,  although  his  conduct  to  her  was  brutal  in  the  exlreme. 

The  girl  living  in  the  next  room  to  her  has  frequently  heard  him  knock  l-.cr 
head  against  the  wall,  and  pound  W,  when  he  was  out  of  temper,  through  I>cr 
gains  of  prostitution  being  less  than  usual.  He  lavisiied  upon  her  every  sort  of 
cruelty  and  abuse,  and  at  length  she  grew  so  wretciied,  and  was  reduced  to 
so  dreadful  a  plight,  that  she  ceased  to  attract.  At  this  he  became  furious,  and 
pawned  all  her  clothing  but  one  thin  garment  of  rags.  ..  The  week  befn--c  her, 
first  confinement  he  kicked  hei  black  and  blue  from  neck  to  knees,  and  shy 
was  carried  to  the  police  station  in  a  pool  of  blood,  but  she  was  so  loval  to 
|||»«vr«tcb  iMilith*  rafuced  to  ap{)ear  against  him. 


FROM    WOOLWICH    DUSTHOU.' 


5S 


.-■I 


Siic  uus  going  to  drown  herself  in  desperation,  when  ourKescue  OScefsspdke 
to  her,  wrapped  their  own  shawl  around  her  shivering  shoulders,  took  her  home 
with  them,  and  cared  for  her.    The  baby  was  born  dead — a  tiny,  shapeless  mass^ 

This  state  of  things  is  all  too  common. 

Hopelessness— Surroundings. — The  state  of  hopelessness  and  despair  in 
which  these  girls  live  continually,  makes  them  reckless  of  consequences,  and 
large  numbers  commit  suicide  who  are  never  heard  of.  A  West  End  policeman 
assured  us  that  the  number  of  prostitute-suicides  was  terribly  in  advance  ol 
anything  guessed  at  by  the  public. 

Depths  to  which  they  Sink. — There  is  scarcely  a  lower  class  of  girls  to  be 
found  than  the  girls  of  Woolwich  "  Dusthole  " — where  one  of  our  Rescue  Slum 
Homes  is  established.  The  women  living  and  following  their  dreadful  busi' 
ness  in  this  neighbourhood  are  so  degraded  that  even  abandoned  men  will 
refuse  to  accompany  them  home.  Soldiers  are  forbidden  to  enter  the  place,  or 
to  go  down  the  street,  on  pain  of  twenty-five  days'  imprisonment ;  pickets  are 
stationed  at  either  end  to  prevent  this.  The  streets  are  much  cleaner  than  many 
of  the  rooms  we  have  seen. 

One  public  house  there  is  shut  up  three  or  four  times  in  a  day  sometimes  for 
fear  of  losing  the  licence  through  the  terrible  brawls  which  take  place  within. 
A  policeman  never  goes  down  this  street  alone  at  night — one  having  died  not 
long  ago  from  injuries  received  there — but  our  two  lasses  go  unharmed  and 
loved  at  all  hours,  spending  every  other  night  always  upon  the  streets. 

The  girls  sink  to  the  "  Dusthole"  after  coming  down  several  grades.  There  is 
but  one  on  record  who  came  tliere  with  beautiful  clothes,  and  this  poor  girl, 
when  last  seen  by  the  officers,  was  a  pauper  in  the  workhouse  infirmary  in  a 
■vretched  condition. 

The  lowest  class  of  all  is  the  girls  ^vho  stand  at  the  pier-head — these  sell 
themselves  literally  for  a  bare  crust  of  tread  and     t-ep  in  the  streets. 

Filth  and  vermin  abound  to  an  extent  to  which  ao  one  who  iias  not  seen  it 
can  have  any  idea 

The  "  Dusthole  "  is  only  one,  alas  of  many  similar  districts  in  this  highly 
civilised  land. 

Sickness,  Friendlessness — Death. — In  hospitals  it  is  a  known  fact  that  these 
girls  are  not  treated  at  all  like  other  cases  ;  they  inspire  disgust,  and  arc  most 
frequently  discharged  before  being  really  cured. 

Scorned  by  their  relations,  and  ashamed  to  make  their  case  known  even  to 
those  who  would  help  them,  unable  longer  to  struggle  ou;  on  the  streets  to  ean. 
the  bread  of  shame,  there  are  girls  lying  in  many  a  dark  hole  in  this  bi^  .itv 
positively  rotting  away,  and  maintained  by  their  old  companions  on  the  streets. ' 

Many  are  totally  friendless,  utterly  cast  out  and  left  to  perish  by  relatives  and 
frienda  One  of  this  class  came  to  us,  sickened  and  died,  and  we  burled  her, 
being  her  only  follower*  to  the  jrave. 


!3R 


mm 


m 


(Bi 


THE   VICIOUS. 


l£  is  a  sad  story,  but  one  that  must  not  be  forgotten,  for  these 
women  constitute  5  large  standing,  army  whose  numbers  no  one  can, 
calculate.  All  estimates  that  I  have  seem  purely  imaginary.  The 
ordinary  figure  given  for  London  is  from  60,000  to  80,000. .  This 
may  be, true  if  it  is  meant  to  include  all  habitually  unchaste  women. 
It  is  a  monstrous  exaggeration  if  it  is  meant  to  apply  to  those  who 
make  their  living  solely  and  habitually  by  prostitution.  These  figures, 
however,  only  confus'^.  We  shall  hav^  to  deal  with  hundreds  every 
month,  whatever  estimate  we  take.  How  utterly  unprepared  society 
js  for  any  such  systematic  reformation  may  be  seen  from  the  fact 
that  even  now  at  our  Homes  we  are  unable  to  take  in  all  the  girls 
who  apply  They  cannot  escape,  even  if  they  would,  for  want  of 
funds  whereby  to  provide  them  a  way  of  release. 


mu  ^KCjant  a«>-.jmwni«ii  a..>— < ' 


ij 


CHAPTER  VII. 
T  H  E    C  R  I  M  I  N  A  L  S. 

One  very  important  section  of  the  denizens  of  Darkest  England 
are  the  criminals  and  the  semi-criminals.  They  are  more  or  less 
predatory,  and  are  at  present  shepherded  by  the  police  and  punished 
by  the  gaoler.  Their  numbers  cannot  be  ascertained  with  very 
great  precision,  hut  the  following  figures  are  taken  from  the  prison 
returns  of  1889:-^-         - 

The  criminal  classes  of  Great  Britain,  in  round  figures,  sum  up  a 
total  of  no  less  than  90,cxx)  persons,  made  up  as  follows : — 

Convict  prisons  contain     ...  ...  ...        11,660  persons. 

Local  „  „         ...  ...  ...        20,883       •> 

Retbrmatories  for  children  convicted  of  crime 

Industrial  schools  for  vagrant  and  refractory  children 

Criminal  lunatics  under  restraint 

Known  thieves  at  large 

Known  receivers  of  stolen  goods         ...  ... 

Suspected  persons  ... 


1,270 

21,413 
910 

14,747 
1,121 

17,042 


Total        89,046 


The  above  <ioes  not  include  the  great  army  of  known  prostitutes, 
nor  the  keepers  and  owners  of  brothels  and  disorderly  houses,  as  to 
whose  numbers  Government  is  rigidly  silent. 

These  figures  are,  however,  misleading.  They  only  represent  the 
ciiminils  actually  in  gaol  on  n  given  day.  The  average  gaol  popula- 
tion in  England  and  Wales,  excluding  the  convict  establishments, 
was,  in  1889,  15,119,  but  the  total  number  actually  sentenced  and 
imprisoned  in  local  prisons  was  I53,cxx>,  of  v.honi  2^,000  only. qnmt 
on  first  term  sentences  ;  7€,^(X>  of  them  had  been  convicted  at  least 
10  times.     But  eveu  if  we  suppose  that  the  criminal  class  numberi| 


I 


r- 


^B 


JTHE  ^criminals: 


no  more  than  90,b6oJ%f:V^hom' only  35,000  person_s  are  at  large,  it  is 
still  a  large  enough  section  of^humanity  to  compel  attention. fe.  90,000 
criminal^  represents  a  wreckage  Whose  cost  to  the"  community' is  very 
imperfectly  estimated  '  when  we  add  up  the  cost  of  the  prisons,  even 
if  we  "add  to  them  the  whole  cost  of  the  police.  The  police  have  so 
many  other  duties  besides  the  shepherding  of  criminals  that  it  is 
unfair  to  saddle  the  latter  with  the  whole  of  the  cost  of  the  constabu- 
lary. :  The  cost  of  prosecution  and  maintenance  of  criminals;  and 
the  expense  of  the  police  involves  an  annual  outlay  of  ;^4,437,ooo. 
This,  however,  is  small  compared  with  the  tax  and  toll  which  this 
predatory  horde  inflicts  upon  the  community  on  which  it  is  quartered. 
To  the  loss  caused  by  the  actual  picking  and  stealing  must  be  added 
that  of  the  unproductive  labour  of  nearly  65,000  adults.  Dependent 
upon  these  criminal  adults  must  be  at  least  twice  as  many  women 
and  children,  so  that  it  is  probably  an  under-estimate  to  say  that  this 
list  of  criminals  and  semi-criminals  rejpresents  a  population  of  at  least 
200,000,  who  all  live  more  or  less  at  the  expense  of  society. 

Every  year,  in  the  Metropolitan  district  alone,  66,100  persons  are 
arrested,  of  whom  444  are  arrested  for  trying  to  commit  suicide — life 
having  become  too  unbearable  a  burden.  This  immense  population 
is  partially,  no  doubt,  bred  to  prison,  the  same  as  other  people  are 
bred  to  the  army  and  to  the  bar.  The  hereditary  criminal  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  India,  although  it  is  only  in  that  country  that  they 
have  the  engaging  simplicity  to  describe  themselves  frankly  in 
the  census  returns.  But  it  is  recruited  constantly  from  the  outside. 
In  many  cases  this  is  due  to  sheer  starvation.  Fathers  of  the  Church 
have  laid  down  the  law  that  a  man  who  is  in  peril  of  death  from 
hunger  is  entitled  to  take  bread  wherever  he  can  find  it  to  keep  body 
and  soul  together.  That  proposition  is  not  embodied  in  our 
jurisprudence.  Absolute  despair  drives  many  a  man  into  the 
ranks  of  the  criminal  class,  who  would  never  have  fallen  into  the 
category  of  criminal  convicts  if  adequate  provision  had  J)een  made  for 
the  rescue  of  those  drifting  to  doom.  Wlen  once  he  hds  fallen,  circum- 
stances seem  to  combine  to  keep  him  there.  As  wounded  and  sickly  stags 
are  gored  to  death  by  their  fellows,  so  the  unfortunate  who  bears  the 
pu'ison  brand  is  hunted  from  pillar  to  post,  until  he  despairs  of  ever 
regaining  his  position,  and  osuUates  between  one  prison  and  another 
fur  th«^ce9t  of  his  days.  I  gave  in  a  prec$:ding  pager  an  account  of 
Imw  a  man,  after  trying  in  vain  to  get  work,  fell  before  the  temptation 
lo^8icaJiin'Ord€r-.io_(escapc  starvation.^ Hc>j;J5.,th^ 


GAOL    BIRD'S    TALE. 


69 


t  large,  it  is 
9n.i^^90,ooo 
inity'  is  very 
risons,  even 
(lice  have  so 
Is  that  it  is 
le  constabu- 
iminals;  and 
A,437,ocx). 
11  which  this 
is  quartered, 
ist  be  added 
Dependent 
nany  women 
say  that  this 
on  of  at  least 
ety. 

1  persons  are 
suicide — life 
56  population 
ir  people  are 
linal  is  by  no 
itry  that  they 
5    frankly   in 
1  the  outside. 
)f  the  Church 
)f  death  from 
to  keep  body 
died    in    our 
lan    into   the 
Hen  into  the 
jeen  made  for 
alien,  circum- 
id  sickly  stags 
vho  bears  the 
spairs  of  ever 
1  and  another 
an  account  of 
he  temptation 


man's  story.  .J  After^he  had  stolen  he  ran  away,  and;  thus  describes 
his  experiences  : — 

"  To  fly  was  easy.  To  get  away  from  the  scene  required  very  little" ingenuity; 
but  the  getting  away  from  one  suffering  brought  another.  A  straight  look  from 
a  stranger,  a  quick  step  behind  me,  sent  a  chili  through  every  nerve.  The 
cravings  of  hunger  had  been  satisfied,  but  it  was  the  cravings  of  conscience  that 
were  clamorous  now.  It  was  easy  to  get  away  from  the  earthly  consequences  of 
sin,  but  from  the  fact — never.  And  yet  it  was  the  compulsion  of  circumstances 
that  made  me  a  criminal.  It  was  neither  from  inward  viciousness  or  choice,  and 
how  bitterly  did  I  cast  reproach  on  society  for  allowing  such  an  alternative  to 
offer 'itself — *to  Steal  or  Starve,'  but  there  was  another  alternative  that  here 
offered  itself— either  give  myself  up,  or  go  on  with  the  life  of  crime.  I  chose  the 
foriner,  I  had  travelled  over  loo  miles  to  get  away  from  the  scene  of  my  theft, 
and  I  now  find  myself  outside  the  station  house  at  a  place  where  I  had  put  in 
my  boyhood  days. 

"  How  many  times  when  a  lad,  with  wondering  eyes,  and  a  heart  stirred 
with  childhood's  pure  sympathy,  I  had  watched  the  poor  waifs  from  time  to 
time  led  within  its  doors.  It  vas  my  turn  now.  I  entered  the  charge 
roonv  and  with  business-like  precision  disclosed  my  errand,  viz.  :  that  I  wished 
to  surrender  myself  for  having  committed  a  felony.  My  ^'*ury  was  doubted. 
Question  followed  question,  and  confirmati(;n  kiiust  '^'  waited.  'Why  had  I 
surrendered  ? '  'I  was  a  rum  *un.'  •  Cracked.'  •  More  foo!  than  rogue.'  '  He 
will  be  sorry  when  he  mounts  the  wheel.'  These  and  such  like  remarks,  were 
handed  round  concerning  me.  An  hour  passed  by.  An  inspector  enters,  and 
announces  the  receipt  of  a  telegram.  '  It  is  all  right.  You  can  put  him  down. 
And  turning  to  me,  he  said,  '  They  will  send  for  you  on  Monday,'  and  then  I 
passed  into  the  inner  ward,  and  a  c^tl.  The  door  closed  with  a  harsh,  grating 
clang,  and  I  was  left  to  face  tha  most  clamorous  accuser  of  all — my  own  interior 
self. 

"  Monday  morning,  the  door  opened,  and  a  compiacent  detective  stood 
before  me.  Who  can  tell  the  feeling  as  the  handcuffs  closed  round  my  wrists, 
and  we  started  for  town.  As  again  the  charge  was  entered,  and  the  passing  of 
another  night  in  the  cell ;  then  the  morning  of  tAe  day  arrived.  The  gruff,  harsh 
'  Come  on '  of  the  gaoler  roused  me,  and  the  next  moment  I  found  myself  in  the 
prison  van,  gazing  through  the  crevices  of  the  floor,  watching  the  stones  flying 
as  it  were  from  beneath  our  feet.  Soon  the  court-house  was  reached,  and 
hustled  into  a  common  ceil,  I  found  myself  amongst  a  crowd  of  boys  and  men, 
all  bound  for  the  'dock.'  One  by  one  the  names  are  called,  and  the.crowd  is 
gradually  thinning  down,  when  th^  announcement  of  my  own  name  fell  on  my 
startled  ear,  and  I  found  myself  stumbling  up  the  stairs,  and  finding  myself  in 
daylight  and  the  ^dock.'    What  a  terrible  ordeal. iLwiw-^Xhcxcremony^waa 


■7 


brief  enough;  'Have  you  anything  to  say?'  'Dont  interrupt  his  Worship 
prisoner  1  '/•  Give  over  tallying  !'  'A  month's  hard  labour.'  This  is  about  all  I 
heard,  or  at  any  rate  realised,  until  a  vigorous  push  landed  me  into,  the  presence 
of  the  officer  who  booked  the  sentence,  and  then  off  I  went  to  gaol.  I  need 
not  linger  over  the  formalities  of  the  reception.  '  A  nightmare  seemed  to  have 
settled  upon  me  as  I  passed  into  the  interior  of  the  correctional. 

"Iresignefl  my  name,  and  I  seemed  to  die  to  myself  for  henceforth.  A31B 
disclosed  my  identity  to  myself  and  others. 

"  Through  all  the  weeks  that  followed  I  was  like  one  in  a  dream.  Meal  times, 
resting  hours,  as  did  every  other  thing,  came  with  clock-like  precision.  At  times 
I  thought  my  mind  had  gone — so  dull,  so  callous,  so  weary  appeared  the  organs 
of  the  brain.  The  harsh  orders  of  the  gaolers  ;  the  droning  of  the  chaplain  in 
the  chapel ;  the  enquiries  of  the  chief  warder  or  the  governor  in  their  periodical 
visits, — all  seemed  so  meaningless. 

"  As  the  day  of  my  liberation  drew  near,  the  horrid  conviction  that  circum- 
stances would  perhaps  compel  me  to  return  to  prison  haunted  me,  and  so 
helpless  did  I  feel  at  the.  prospects  that  awaited  me  outside,  that  I  dreaded 
release,  which  seemed  but  the  facing  of  an  unsympathetic  world.  Tlw  day 
arrived,  and,  strange  as  it  may  sound,  it  was  with  regret  that  I  left  my  cell.  It 
had  become  my  home,  and  no  home  waited  me  outside. 

"  How  utterly  crushed  I  felt ;  feelings  of  companionship  had  gone  out  to  my 
unfortunate  fellow-prisoners,  whom  I  had  seen  daily,  but  the  sound  of  whose 
voices  I  had  never  heard,  whilst  outside  friendships  were  dead,  and  companion- 
ships were  for  ever  broken,  and  I  felt  as  an  outcast  of  society,  with  the  mark  ol 
'gaol  bird'  upon  me,  that  I  must  cover  mv  face,  and  stand  aside  and  cry 
'  unclean.'     Such  were  my  feelings. 

"  The  morning  of  discharge  came,  and  I  am  once  .lore  on  the  streets.  My 
scanty  means  scarcely  sufRcicnt  for  two  days'  least  needs.  Could  I  brace  myself 
to  make  another  honest  endeavour  to  start  afresh  ?  Try,  indeed,  I  did.  I  fell 
back  upon  my  antecedents,  and  tried  to  cut  the  dark  passage  out  of  my  life,  but 
straight  came  the  questions  to  me  Pt  cuch  application  for  employment,  '  What 
have  you  been  doing  lately  ? '  '  Where  have  you  been  living  ? '  If  I  evaded 
the  question  it  caused  doubt ;  if  I  answered,  the  only  answer  I  could  give  was 
•  in  gaol,'  and  that  settled  my  chon'^ef^. 

'*  What,  a  comedy,  alter  all,  it  appeared.  I  remember  the  last  words  of  the 
chaplain  before  leaving  the  prison,  cold  and  precise  in  their  officialism  :  '  Mind 
you  never  come  back  here  again,  young  man.'  And  now,  as  though  in  response 
to  my  earnest  effort  to  keep  froni  going  t^  prison,  society,  by  its  actions,  cried 
out,  *  Go  back  to  gaol.  There  are  honest  men  enough  to  do  our  work  without 
such  as  you.* 

^    "  Imagine,  if  you  can,  my  condition.    At  the  end  of  a  few  days,  black  despair 
had  wraot  itself  around  even*  facultv  of  mind  and  body.    Then  followed  several 


■  f 


HELP   FOR   THE    DISCHARGED    PRISONER. 


er 


his  Worship 
IS  about  all  I 
the  presence 
5aol.  I  need 
;med  to  have 

forth.     %y^B 

Meal  times, 
on.  At  times 
5d  the  organs 
e  chaplain  in 
leir  periodical 

that  circum- 
l  me,  and  so 
lat  I  dreaded 
•Id.  Tlie  day 
t  my  cell.     It 

ne  out  to  my 
Lind  of  whose 
d  companion- 
the  mark  ot 
iside  and  cry 


days  and  nights  with  scarcely  a  bit  of  food  or  a  resting-place.  I  prowle'i  the 
streets  like  a  dog,  with  this  difference,  that  the  dog  has  the  chance  of  helping 
himself,  and  I  had  not.  I  tried  to  forecast  how  long  starvation's  fingr  rs  would 
be  in  closing  round  the  throat  they  already  t,Jpped.  So  indifferent  was  I  alike' 
to  man  or  God,  as  I  waited  for  the  end." 

In  this  dire  extremity  the  writer  found  his  way  to  one  of  ourj 
Shelters,  and  there  found  God  and  friends  and  hope,  and  once  more 
got  his  feet  on  to  the  ladder  which  leads  upward  from  the  black 
gulf  of  starvation  to  competence  and  character,  and  usefulness  and 
heaven. 

As  he  was  then,  however,  there  are  hundreds — nay,  thousands — 
now.  Who  will  give  these  men  a  helping  hand?  .What  is  to  be 
done  with  them  ?  Wou  Id  it  not  be  more  merciful  to  kill  them  off 
at  once  instead  of  sternly  crushing  them  out  of  all  semblance  of 
honest  manhood  ?  Society  recoils  from  such  a  short  cut.  Her 
virtuous  scruples  reminds  me  of  the  subterfuge  by  which  English 
law  evaded  the  veto  on  torture.  •  Torture  was  forbidden,  but  the 
custom  of  placing  an  obstinate  witness  under  a  press  and  slowly 
crushing  him  within  a  hairbreadth  of  death  was  legalised  and 
practised.  So  it  is  to-day.  When  the  criminal  comes  out  of  gaol 
the  whole  world  is  often  but  a  press  whose  punishment  is  sharp  and 
cruel  indeed.  Nor  can  the  victim  escape  even  '<"  he  opens  his  mouth, 
and  speaks. 


1 

/I 


streets.     My 

brace  myself 

I  did.     I  fell 

jf  my  life,  but 

yment,  '  What 

If  I  evaded 

)uld  give  was 

words  of  the 

ilism  ;   'Mind 

;h  in  respdnse 

actions,  cried 

work  without 


black  despair 
llowed  several 


•fMP*M»M<i»«>*P* 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  LOST. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  possibility  of  doing  anything 
with  the  adults,  it  is  universally  admitted  that  there  is  hope  for  the' 
children.  "  I  regard  the  existing  generation  as  lost,"  said  a  leading 
Liberal  statesman.  "  Nothing  can  be  done  with  men  and  women 
who  have  grown  up  under  the  present  demoralising  conditions.  My 
only  hope  is  that  the  children  may  have  a  better  chance.  Education 
will  do  much."  But  unfortunately  the  demoralising  circumstances  of 
the  children  are  not  being  improved — are,  indeed,  rather,  in  many 
respects,  being  made  worse.  The  deterioration  of  our  population  in 
large  towns  is  one  of  the  most  undisputed  facts  of  social  economics. 
The  country  is  the  breeding  ground  of  healthy  citizens.  |  But  for 
the  constant  influx  of  Countrydom,  Cockneydom  would  ^  long 
ere  this  have  perished.  But  unfortunately  the  country  is  being 
depc'pulated.  The  towns,  London  especially,  are  being  gorged  with 
undigested  and  indigestible  masses  of,  labour,  and,  as  the  result,  the 
children  suffer  grievously. 

The  town-bred  child  is  at  a  thousand  disadvantages  compared  with 
his  cousin  in  the  country.  But  every  year  there  are  more  town-bred 
children  and  fewer  cousins  in  the  country.  To  rear  healthy  children 
you  want  first  a  home ;  secondly,  milk ;  thirdly,  fresh  air ;  and 
fourthly,  exercise  under  the  green  trees  and  blue  sky.  All  these 
things  every  country  labourer's  child  possesses,  or  used  to  possess. 
For  the  shadow  of  the  City  life  lies  now  upon  the  fields,  and  even  »in 
the  remotest  rural  district  the  labourer  who  tends  the  cows  is  often 
denied  the  milk  which  his  children  need.  The  regular  demand  of 
the  great  towns  forestalls  the  claims  of  the  labouring  hind,  .j,  Tea  and- 
slops  and  beer  take  the  place  of  milk,  and  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the 
next  generation  are  sapped  from  the  cradle.;4B"t  the  country^chUdl 


I 


f  anything 
pe  for  the' 
i  a  leading 
nd  women 
tions.    My 

Education 
nstances  of 
jr,  in  many 
pulation  in 
economics. 
But  for 
ould  i^long 
•y  is  being 
orged  with 

result,  the 

ipared  with 
town-bred 
ly  children 
air ;  and 
All  these 
:o  possess, 
nd  even  on 
vs  is  often 
demand  of 
Tea  and- 
new  of  the 
intryjfhildl 


SCHOOLEDr  NOTfEDUCATED. 


63 


■ft-^ 


it  he  has  nothing  but  skim  milk,  and  only  a  little  of  that,  has  at  least 
plenty  of  exercise  in  the  fresh  air.  ;  He  has  healthy  human  rela- 
tions with  his  neighbours.'  He  is  looked  after,  and  in  some  sort  ol 
fashion  brought  into  contact  with  the  life  of  the  hall,  the  vicarage; 
and  the  farm.  He  lives  a  natural  life  amid  the  birds  and  trees  and 
growing  crops  and  the  animals  of  the  fields.  He  is  not  a  mere 
human  ant,  crawling  on  the  granite  pavement  of  a  great  urban  ants' 
nest,  with'  an  unnaturally  developed  nervous  system  and  a  sickly 
constitution.  : 

But,  it  will  be  said,  the  child  of  to-day  has  the  inestimable 
advantage  of  Education.  •■  No ;  he  has  not.  Educated  the  children 
are  not.  They  are  pressed  through  "  standards,"  which  exact  a 
certain  acquaintance  with  ABC  and  pothooks  and  figures,  but 
educated  they  are  not  in  the  sense  of  the  development  of  their 
latent  capacities  so  as  to  make  them  capable  for  the  discharge  of 
their  duties  in  life.  The  new  generation  can  read,  no  doubt. 
Otherwise,  where  would  be  the  sale  of  "  Sixteen  String  Jack," 
"  Dick  Turpin,"  and  the  like  ?  But  take  the  girls.  Who  can 
pretend  that  the  girls  whom  our  schools  are  now  turning  out  are 
half  as  well  educated  for  the  work  of  life  as  their  grandmothers 
were  at  the  same  age  ?  How  many  of  all  these  mothers  of  the 
future  know  how  to  bake  a  loaf  or  wash  their  clothes  ?  Except 
minding  the  baby — a  task  that  cannot  be  evaded — what  domestic 
training  have  they  received  to  qualify  them  for  beiner  in  the  future 
the  mothers  of  babies  themselves  ?  • 

And  ever}  the  schooling,  such  as  it  if,  at  what  an  expense  is  it 
often  imparted  I  The  rakings  of  the  human  cesspool  are  brought 
into  the  school-room  and  mixed  up  \vith  your  children.  Your  little 
ones,  who  never  heard  a  foul  word  and  who  are  not  only  innocent, 
but  ignorant,  of  all  the  horrors  of  vice  and  sin,  sit  for  hours  side  by 
side  with  little  ones  whose  parents  are  habitually  drunk,  and 
play  with  others  whose  ideas  of  merriment  are  gained  from  tlu.' 
familiar  spectacle  of  the  nightly  ♦debauch  by  which  their  mothers 
earn  the  family  bread.  It  is  good,  no  doubt,  to  learn  the 
ABC,  but  it  is  not  so  good  that  in  acquiring  these  indispensable 
rudiments,  your  children  should  also  acquire  the  vocabulary  of  the 
I  harlot  and  the  corner  boy.  I  speak  only  of  vvh.it  I  know,  and  of 
that  which  has  been  brought  home  to  me  as  a  matter  of  repeated 
complaint  by  my  Oflicers,  when  1  say  that  the  obscenity  of  the'.talk 
of  many  of  the  children  of.  some  of^ur  public  schools  could Juacilly 


»■■ 


1 

In 


64 


THE    CHILDREN    OF  THE    LOST. 


i)  ii 


m 


be  outdone  even  in  Sodom  and  Gomorrha.  Childish  innocence  is 
V|5ry  beautiful ;  but  the  bloom  is  soon  destroyed  and  it  is  a  cruel 
awakening  for  a  mother  to  discover  that  her  tenderly  nurtured  boy, 
or  her  carefully  guarded  daughter,  has  been  initiated  by  a  companion 
into  the  mysteries  of  abomination  that  are  concealed  in  the  phrase — 
a  house  of  ill-fame. 

The  home  is  largely  destroyed   where  the  mother  follows   the 
father  into  the  factory,  and  where  the  hours  of  labour  are  so  long 
that  they  have  no  time  to  see  their  children.     The  omnibus  drivers 
of  London,  for  instance,  what  time  have  they  for  discharging  the  daily 
duties  of  parentage  to  their  little  ones  ?     How  can  a  man  who  is  on  his 
omnibus  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  a  day  have  time  to  be  a  father 
to  his  children  in  any  sense  of  the  word  ?     He  has  hardly  a  chance 
to  see  them  except  when  they  are  asleep.     Even  the  Sabbath,  that 
blessed  institution  which  is  one  of  the  sheet  anchors  of  human  exist- 
en:e,   is  encroached    upon.     Many  of  the    new   industries  which 
have  been  started  or  developed  since  I  was  a  boy  ignore  man's 
wed  of  one  day's  rest  in  seven.     The  railway,  the  post-office,  the 
tramway  all  compel  some  of  their  employes  to  be  content  with  less 
than  the  divinely  appointed  minimum  of  leisure.     In  the  country 
darkness  restores  the  labouring   father  to  his  little  ones.     In  the 
town  gas  and  the  electric  light  enables   the  employer  to  rob  the 
children  of  the  whole  of  their  father's  waking  hours,  and  in  some 
cases  he  takes  the  mother's  also.     Under  some  of  the  conditions  of 
modern  industry,  children  are  not  so  much  born  into  a  home  as 
they  are  spawned  into  the  world  like  fish,  with  the  results  which 
we  see. 

The  decline  of  natural  affection  follows  inevitably  from  the  sub- 
stitution of  the  fish  relationship  for  that  of  the  human.  A  father 
who  never  dandles  his  child  on  his  knee  cannot  have  a  very  keen 
sense  of  the  responsibilities  of  paternity.  Iri  the  rush  and  pressure 
of  our  competitive  City  life,  thousands  of  men  have  not  time,  to  be 
fpthers.  SircSj  yes  ;  fathers,  no.  It  will  take  a  good  deal  of  School- 
master to  make  up  for  that  change.  If  this  be  the  case,  even  with 
the  children  constantly  employed,  it  can  be  imagined  what  kind  of  a 
home,  life  is  possessed  by  the  children  of  the  tramp,  the  odd  ■jobber, 
theitbief,  and"  .the  ?  harlot.  For  all  these  people  have  childrcjn, 
although  they* liavc  no  homes  in  which  to  rear  them.  ;■  Not  a  bird  in 
nil  tTic  woods  or  fields  but  prepares  some  kind  of  a  nest  in  which  to  I 
iiatch  and  rear  its  young,  even  if  it  be.  but  a-hale  in  the  sand.  Dr.  8 


'( 


THE  CURSE  UPON  THE  CRADLE. 


65 


noccncc  is 
t  is  a  cruel 
rtured  boy, 
companion 
e  phrase — 

bllows   the 
are  so  long 
bus  drivers 
ng  the  daily 
'ho  is  on  his 
)  be  a  father 
lly  a  chance 
abbath,  that 
uman  exist- 
itries   which 
jnore   man's 
ist-office,  the 
ent  with  less 
the  country 
les.     In  the 
to  rob  the 
and  in  some 
conditions  of 
a  home  as 
-esults  which 


n. 


om  the  sub- 
A  father 
a  very  keen 
and  pressure 
time,  to  be 
eal  of  school- 
se,  even  with 
hat  kind  of  a 
e  odd  •jobber, 
we   childre^l, 
Not  a  bird  in 
it  in  which  to  I 
he  sand,  dls' 


few  crossed  sticks  in  the  bush.     But  how  many  young  ones  amongst 
our  people  arc  hatched  before  any  nest  is  ready  to  receive  them  ? 

Think  of  the  multitudes  of  children  born  in  our  workhouses, 
children  of  whom  it  may  be  said  "  they  are  conceived  in  sin  and 
shapen  in  iniquity,"  and,  as  a  punishment  of  the  sins  of  the  parents, 
branded  from  birth  as  bastards,  worse  than  fatherless,  homeless,  and 
friendless,  "  damned  into  an  evil  world,"  in  which  even  those  who 
have  all  the  advantages  of  a  good  parentage  and  a  careful  training 
find  it  hard  enough  to  make  their  way.  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
the  passionate  love  of  the  deserted  mother  for  the  child  which  has 
been  the  visible  symbol  and  the  terrible  result  of  her  undoing 
stands  between  the  little  one  and  all  its  enemies.  But  think  how 
often  the  mother  regards  the  advent  of  her  child  with  loathing  and 
horror ;  how  the  discovery  that  she  is  about  to  become  a  mother 
aftects  her  like  a  nightmare  ;  and  how  nothing  but  the  dread  of  the 
hangman's  rope  keeps  her  from  strangling  the  babe  on  the  very  hour 
01  its  birth.  What  chances  has  such  a  child  ?  And  there  are  many  such. 

In  a  certain  country  that  I  will  not  name  there  exists  a  scienti- 
fically arranged  system  of  infanticide  cloaked  under  the  garb  of  philan- 
thropy. Gigantic  foundling  establishments  exist  in  its  principal  cities, 
where  every  comfort  and  scientific  improvement  is  provided  for  the 
deserted  children,  with  the  result  that  one-half  of  them  die.  The  mothers 
are  spared  the  crime.  The  State  assumes  the  responsibility.  We  do 
something  like  that  here,  but  our  foundling  asylums  are  the  Street,  the 
vvoikhouse,  and  the  Grave.  When  an  English  Judge  tells  us,  as 
Mr.  Justice  Wills  did  the  other  day,  that  there  were  any  number  of 
parents  who  would  kill  their  children  for  a  few  pounds'  insurance 
money,  we  can  form*  some  idea  of  the  horrors  of  the  existence  into 
which  many  of  the  children  of  th'is  highly  favoured  land  are  ushered 
at  their  birth. 

The  overcrowded  homes"  of  the  poor  compel  the  children  to  witness 
everything.  Sexual  morality  often  comes  to  have  no  meaning  to  them. 
Incest  is  so  familiar  as  hardly  to  call  for  remark.  The  bitter  poverty 
of  the  poor  compels  them  to  leave  their  children  half  fed.  There  are  few 
more  grotesque  pictures  in  the  history  of  civilisation  than  that  of  the  com- 
pulsory attendance  of  children  at  school,  faint  with  hunger  because  they 
had  no  breakfast,  and  not  sure  whether  they  would  even  secure  a 
dry  criist  for  dinner  when  their  morning's  quantum  of  education  had 
been  duly  imparted.  Children  thus  hungered,  thus  housed,  and  thus 
l6ft  to  grow  up  as  best  they  can  without  being  fathered  or  mothered, 


SSSBBSSRSI 


66 


THE    CHILDREN    OF    THE 


LOST. 


are  not,  educate  them  as  you  vvill,  exactly  the  ir.o^t  prtmiaing 
material  for  the  making  cf  the  Aiture  citizens  khd ^rulers  of  the 
Empire. 

What,  then,  is  the  ground  for  hope  that  if  we  leave  things  alone  the 
new  generation  will  be  better  than  their  elders  ?  To  me  it  seems 
that  the  truth  is  rather  the  other  way.  The  lawlessness  of  our  lads, 
ilie  increased  license  of  our  girls,  the  general  shiftlessness  from  the 
home-making  point  of  view  of  the  product  of  our  factories  and  schools 
are  far  from  reassuring.  Our  young  people  have  never  learned  to 
obey.  The  fighting  gangs  of  half-grown  lads  in  Lisson  Grove,  and 
the  scuttlers  of  Manchester  are  ugly  symptoms  of  a  social  condition 
that  will  not  grov/  better  by  being  left  alone. 

It  is  the  home  that  has  been  destroyed,  and  with  the  home  the 
home-like  virtues.  It  is  the  dis-homed  multitude,  nomadic,  hungry, 
thai  is  rearing  an  undisciplined  population,  cursed  from  birth  with 
hereditary  weakness  of  body  and  hereditary  faults  of  character. 
It  is  idle  to  hope  to  mend  matters  by  taking  the  children  and 
bundling  them  up  in  barracks.  A  child  brought  up  in  an  institution 
is  too  often  only  half-human,  having  never  known  a  mother's  love 
and  a  father's  care.  To  men  and  women  who  are  without  homes, 
children  must  be  more  or  less  of  an  incumbrance.  Their  advent 
is  regarded  with  impatience,  and  often  it  is  averted  by  crime.  The 
unwelcome  little  stranger  is  badly  cared  for,  badly  fed,  and  allowed 
every  chance  to  die.  Nothing  is  worth  doing  to  increase  his 
chances  of  living  that  does  not  Reconstitute  the  Home.  But  between 
us  and  that  ideal  how  vast  is  the  gulf!  It  will  have  to  be  bridged, 
however,  if  anything  practical  is  to  be  donei 


T 


prbmiaing 
era  oF  the 

^  alone  the 
jie  it  seems 
af  our  lads, 
IS  from  the 
and  schools 
•  le.'irned  to 
Grove,  and 
al  condition 

e  home  the 
die,  hungry, 
n  birth  with 
f  character, 
hildren  and 
,n  institution 
[Other's  love 
hout  homes. 
Their  advent 
crime.    The 
and  allowed 
increase  his 
But  between 
>  be  bridged, 


1  I     v 


,  CHAPTER  IX.  :         " 

IS  THERE  NO  HELP? 

It  may  be  said  by  those  who  have  followed  me  to  this  point  that 
while  it  is  quite  true  that  there  are  many  who  are  out  of  work,  ana 
not  less  true  that  there  are  many  who  sleep  on  the  Embankment  and 
elsewhere,  the  lav/  has  provided  a  remedy,  or  if  not  a  remedy, 
at  least  a  method,  of  dealing  with  these  sufferers  which  is  sufficient. 
The  Secretary  of  the  Charity  Organisation  Society  assured  one  of 
my  Officers,  who  went  to  inquire  for  his  opinion  en  the  subject, 
"  that  no  further  machinery  was  necessary.  All  that  war.  needed  in 
this  direction  they  already  h  d  in  vrorking  order,  and  to  create 
any  further  machinery  \\ouId  do  more  harm  than  good." 

Now,  v/hat  is  the  existing  machinery  by  which  Society,  whether 
through  the  organisation  of  the  State,  or  by  individual  endeavour, 
attempts  to  deal  with  the  submerged  residuum  ?  I  had  intended  at 
one  time  to  have  devoted  considerable  space  to  the  description  of  the 
existing  agencies,  together  v/ith  certain  observations  which  have 
been  forcibly  impressed  upon  my  mind  as  to  their  failure  and  its 
cause.  The  necessity,  however,  of  subordinating  everything  to  the 
supreme  purpose  of  this  book,  which  is  to  endeavour  to  show  how 
light  can  be  let  into  the  hearc  of  Darkest  England,  compels  me  to 
pass  rapidly  over  this  department  of  the  subject,  merely  glancing  as 
I  go  at  the  well-meaning,  but  more  or  less  abortive,  attempts  to  cope 
with  this  great  and  appalling  evil 

-  The  first  place  must  naturally  be  giv6n  to  the  administration  of 
t.'i :.  Pcor  Law.  Legally  the  State  accepts  the  responsibility  of 
providing  food  and  shelter  for  every  man,  woman,  or  child  who  is 
tittcrly  destitute.  This  jresponsibility  it,  however,  practically  shirks 
by  the  imf)nr>iHon  cf  ct^clitions  on  the  claimants  of  relief  that  are 
Iituciul  aiici  repulsive,  if  not  impossible.     As  to  the  method  of  Poor 


68 


IS  THERE   NO   HELP? 


■n 


Law  adunhiistriatidir  in  dealing  with  inmates  of  woi'kh&useft^  or  in  fltot 
distribution  of  outdoor  relief,  I  say  nothing.  Both  of  these  raise 
great  questions  which  lie  outside  my  immediate  purpose.  All  that 
I  need  to  do  is  to  indicate  the  limitations — it  may  be  the  necessary 
limitations — under  which  the  Poor  Law  operates.  No  Englishman  can 
come  upon  the  rates  so  long  as  he  has  anything  whatever  left  to  call 
his  own.  When  long-continued  destitution  has  been  carried  on  to  the 
bitter  end,  when  piece  by  piece  every  article  of  domestic  furniture  has 
been  sold  or  pawned,  when  all  efforts  to  procure  employment  have 
failed,  and  when  you  have  nothing  left  except  the  clothes  in  which  you 
stand,  then  you  can  present  yourself  before  the  relieving  officer  and 
secure  your  lodging  in  the  workhouse,  the  administration  of  which 
variesgnfinitely  according  to  the  disposition  of  the  Board  of  Guardians 
under,  whose  control  it  happens  to  be. 

If,  however,  you  have  not  sunk  to  such  despair  as  to  be  willing  to 
barter  your  liberty  for  the  sake  of  food,  clothing,  and  shelter  in 
the  Workhouse,  but  are  only  temporarily  out  of  employment, 
seeking  work,  then  you  go  to  the  Casual  Ward.  There  you  are 
taken  in,  and.  provided  for  on  the  principle  of  making  it  as  dis- 
agreeable as  possible  for  yourself,  in  order  to  deter  you  from 
again  accepting  the  hospitality  of  the  rates, — and  of  course  in 
defence  of  this  a  good  deal  can  be  said  by  the  Political  £conom<st. 
But  what  seems  utterly  indefensible  is  the  careful  precautions  which 
are  taken  to  render  it  impossible  for  the  unemployed  Casual  to 
resume  promptly  after  his  night's  rest  the  search  for  work.  Under 
the  existing  regulations,  if  you  are  compelled  to  seek  refuge  on 
Monday  night  in  the  Casual  Ward,  you  are  bound  to  remain  there 
at  least  till  Wednesday  morning. 

The  theory  of  the  system  is  this,  that  individuals  casually  poor 
and  out  of  work,  being  desUtute  and  without  shelter,  may  upon 
application  receive  shelter  for  the  night,  supper  and  a  breakfast,  and 
in  return  for  this,  shall  perform  a  task  of  work,  not  necessarily  in 
repayment  for  the  relief  received,  but  simply  as  a  test  of  their 
'villingness  to  work  for  their  living.  The  work  given  is  the  same  as 
that  given  to  felons  in  gaol,  oakum-picking  and  stone-breaking. 

The  work,  too,  is  excessive  in  proportion  to  what  is  received. 
Four  pounds  of  oakum  is  a  great  task  to  an  expert  and  an 
old  hand.  To  a  novice  it  can  only  be  accomplished  with  the 
grSatcst  difficulty,  if  indeed  it  can  be  done  at  all.  h  is  even 
l^'^j^iiess  ot   iU^  amount  demanded    from   a   cnmiiwU   in   ^ol. 


rv 


J1t^   CASyiAU   WAR^.^ 


•w^ 


■■'j?i;  !>  L 


Mr  in  Mtt 

ise  raise 
All  that 
Lecessary 
iman  can 
;ft  to  call 

on  to  the 
liture  has 
lent  have 
vhich  you 
>fBcer  and 

of  which 
Guardians 

willing  to 
shelter  in 
iployment, 
e  you  are 
it  as  dis- 
you   from 
course  in 
Econom'st. 
ions  which 
Casual  to 
k.     Under 
refuge  on 
main  there 

sually  poor 
may  upon 
lakfast,  and 
cessarily  in 
St  of  their 
he  same  as 
aking. 
is  received, 
irt   and  an 
1  with  the 
It  is  even 
L   in   gaol. 


The  stone-breaking'  test  is  monstrous.  Half  a  ton  of  stone  from  j^j\y 
man  in  return  for  partially  supplying  the  cravings  of  hunger  is  an 
outrage  which,  if  we  read  of  as  having  occurred  in  Russia  or  Siberia, 
would  find  Exeter  Hall  crowded  with  an  indignant  audience,  and 
Hyde  Park  filled  with  strong  oratory.  But  because  this  system 
exists  at  our  own  doors,  very  little  notice  is  taken  of  it.  These 
tasks  are  expected  from  all  comers,  starved,  ill-clad,  half-fed 
creatures  from  the  streets,  foot-sore  and  worn  out,  and  yet  unless  it 
is  done,  the  alternative  is  the  magistrate  and  the  gaol.  The  old 
system  was  bad  enough,  which  demanded  the  picking  of  one  pound 
of  oakum.  As  soon  as  this  task  was  accomplished,  which  generally 
kept  them  till  the  middle  of  next  day,  it  was  thus  rendered  im- 
possible for  them  to  seek  work,  and  they  were  forced  to  spend 
another  night  in  the  ward.  The  Local  Government  Board,  however, 
stepped  in,  and  the  Casual  was  ordered  to  be  detained  for  the  whole 
day  and  the  second  night,  the  amount  of  labour  required  from  him 
being  increased  four-fold. 

Under  the  present  system,  therefore,  the  penalty  for  seeking^helter 
from  the  streets  is  a  whole  day  and  two  nights,  with  an  almost 
impossible  task,  which,  failing  to  do,  the  victim  is  liable  to  be  dragged 
before  a  magistrate  and  committed  to  gaol  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond, 
while  in  the  Casual  "Ward  their  treatment  is  practically  that  of  a 
criminal.  They  sleep  in  a  cell  with  an  apartment  at  the  back,  in 
which  th6  work  is  done,  receiving  at  night  half  a  pound  of  gruel  and 
eight  ounces  of  bread,  and  next  morning  the  same  for  breakfast,  with 
half  a  pound  of  oakum  and  stones  to  occupy  himself  for  a  day. 

The  beds  are  mostly  of  thv  p!ank  type,  the  coverings  scant,  the 
comfort  «i7., .  Be  it  remembered  that  this  is  the  treatment  meted 
out  to  those  who  are  supposed  to  be  Casual  poor,  in  temporary 
difficulty,  walking  from  place  to  place  seeking  some  employment. 

The  treatment  of  the  women  is  as  follows :  Each  Casual  has  to 
stay  in  the  Casual  Wards  two  nights  and  one  day,  during  which 
time  they  have  to  pick  2  lb.  of  oakum  or  go  to  the  wash-tub  and 
work  out  the  time  there.  While  at  the  wash-tub  they  are  allowed 
to  wash  their  own  clothes,  but  not  otherwise.  If  seen  more  than 
once  in  the  same  Casual  Ward,  they  are  detained  three  days  by 
ordeir  of  the  inspector  each  time  seen,  or  if  sleeping  twice  in  the 
same  month  the  master  of  the  ward  has  power  to  detain  them  three 
days.  There  are  four  inspectors  who  visit  different  Casual  Ward*  j 
and  if^thc  Casual  is  seen  by  any  of  the  inspectors  ^wbo  in  turn^>dsit 


70 


IS    THERE    NO    HELP? 


all  the  Casual  Wards)  at  any  of  the  wards  they  have  previously 
visited  they  are  detained  three  days  in  each  one.  •  The  inspector, 
who  is  a  male  person,  visits  the  wards  at  ^11  unexpected  hours,  even 
visiting  while  the  females  are  in  bed.  The  beds  are  in  some  wards 
composed  of  straw  and  two  rugs,  in  others  cocoanut  fibre  and  two 
rugs.  The  Casuals  rise  at  5.45  a.m.  and  go  to  bed  7  p.m.  '^- If  they 
do  not  finish  picking  their  oakum  before  7  p.m.,  they  stay  up  till 
they  do.  If  a  Casual  does  not  come  to  the  ward  before  12.30, 
midnight,  they  keep  them  one  day  extra.  The  way  in  which  this 
operates,  however,  can  be  best  understood  by  the  following  state- 
ments, made  by  those  who  have  been  in  Casual  Wards,  and  who 
can,  therefore,  speak  from  experience  as  to  how  the  system  affects 
the  individual  :— 

J.  C.  knows  Casral  Wards  pretty  well.  Has  been  in  St.  Giles,  White- 
chapel,  St.  George  s,  Paddington,  Marylebone,  Mile  End.  They  vary  a  little 
in  detail,  but  as  a  rule  the  doors  open  at  6 ,  you  walk  in  ,  they  tell  you  what 
the  work  is,  and  that  if  you  fail  to  do  it,  you  will  be  liable  to  imprisonment. 
Then  you  bathe.  Some  places  the  water  is  dirty.  Three  persons  as  a  rule 
wash  in  one  water  At  Whitechapel  (been  there  three  times)  it  has  always 
been  dirty;  also  at  St  Georges.  I  had  no  bath  at  Mile  End;  they  were  short 
ot  water  If  you  complain  they  take  no  notice  You  then  tie  your  clothes  m 
a  buiiule,  and  they  give  you  a  nightshirt  At  most  places  they  servo  supper  to 
the  men,  who  have  to  go  to  bed  and  cat  it  there.  Some  beds  arc  in  cells;  some 
in  large  rooms.  You  get  up  at  u  a.m.  and  do  the  tabk.  The  amount  of  stonc- 
breaking  is  too  much  ;  and  the  oakiim-picking  is  atsu  heavy.  The  food  differs. 
At  St.  Giles,  the  gruel  left  over-night  is  boiled  up  for  breakfast,  and  is  conse- 
quently sour ,  the  bread  is  puffy,  full  of  holes,  and  don't  weigh  the  regulation 
amount.  Dinner  is  only  8  ounces  of  bread  and  i^  ounce  of  cheese,  and  if 
that's  short,  how  can  anybody  do  their  work  ?  They  will  give  you  water  to  drinlc 
if  you  ring  the  cell  bell  for  it,  that  is,  they  will  tell  you  to  -vait,  and  bring  it 
in  about  hah  an  hour.  There  are  a  good  lot  of  "  moochers '  go  to  Casual  Wards, 
bu*  there  are  large  niiraberd  of  men  w'lo  only  want  work. 

J.  D  ,  age  25,  Londoner;  cant  gel  work,  trird  hard;  been  refused  work 
several  times  on  account  of  having  no  settled  residence;  looks  suspicious,  they 
think,  to  have  "  no  home. '  Seems  a  decent,  willing  man.  Had  two  penny- 
worth 01  soup  this  morning,  which  has  lasted  all  day.  Earned  is.  6d.  yesterday, 
bill  distributing,  nothing  the  day  before  Been  m  good  many  London  Casual 
Wards.  ThmKS  they  are  no  good,  because  they  keep  him  all  day,  when  he  migiit 
be  seeking  work  Don't  want  shelter  in  day  time,  wants  work.  If  he  goes  in  twice 
in  a  month  to  the  same  Casual  W  ard,  they  detain  \um  lour  days.  Considers  the 
food  decidedly  insufficient  to  do  the  rccjuircd  amount  of  work.    If  the  work  is 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF   CASUALS. 


71 


eviously 
ispcctor, 
irs,  even 
le  wards 
and  two 
-If  they 
ly  up  till 
re  12.30, 
hich  this 
ng  statc- 
and  who 
:m  affects 

es,  White- 
ary  a  little 
il  you  what 
prisonmcnt. 
s  as  a  rule 
has  always 
t  were  short 
r  clothes  in 
p  supper  to 
cells;  some 
It  of  stonc- 
ood  differs, 
lid  is  consc- 
e  regulation 
2cse,  and  il 
iter  to  drink 
and  bring  it 
sual  Wards, 

fused  work 
)icious,  they 
two  penny- 
J.  yesterday, 
ndon  Casual 
len  he  miglit 
goes  in  twice 
lonsidcrs  the 
f  the  work  is 


not  done  to  time,  you  are  liable  to  21  days'  imprisonment.  Get  badly  treated 
some  places,  especially  where  there  is  a  bullying  superintendent.  Has  done  21 
days  for  absolutely  refusing  to  do  the  work  on  siuch  low  diet,  when  unfit.  Can't 
get  justice,  doctor  always  sides  with  superintendent. 

J.  S. ;  odd  jobber.  Is  working  at  board  carrying,  when  he  can  get  It.  There's 
quite  a  rush  for  it  at  is.  2d.  a  day.  Carried  a  couple  of  parcels  yesterday,  got 
5d.  for  them  j  also  had  a  bit  of  bread  and  meat  given  him  by  a  working  man,  so 
altogether  had  an  excellent  day.  Sometimes  goes  all  day  without  food,  ard 
plenty  more  do  the  same.  Sleeps  on  Embankment,  and  now  and  then  in  Casual 
Ward.  Latter  is  clean  and  comfortable  enough,  but  they  keep  you  in  all  d-y  ; 
that  means  no  chance  of  getting  work.  Was  a  clerk  once,  but  got  out  of  a  job, 
snd  couldn't  get  another ;  there  are  so  many  clerks. 

"  A  Tramp  "  says  :  "  I've  been  in  most  Casual  Wards  in  London  ;  was  in  the 
one  in  Macklin  Street,  Drury  Lane,  last  week.  They  keep  you  two  nights  and 
a  day,  and  more  than  that  if  they  recognise  you.  You  have  to  break  10  cwt.  of 
stone,  or  pick  four  pounds  of  oakum.  Both  are  hard.  About  thirty  a  night  go 
to  Macklin  Street.  The  food  is  I  pint  gruel  and  6  oz.  bread  for  breakfast ;  8  oz. 
bread  and  i J  oz.  cheese  for  dinner;  tea  same  as  breakfast.  No  supper.  It  is 
not  enough  to  do  the  work  on.  Then  you  are  obliged  to  bathe,  of  course ; 
rnmetimes  three  will  bathe  in  one  water,  and  if  you  complain  they  turn  nasty, 
and  ask  if  you  are  come  to  a  palace.  Mitcham  Workhouse  I've  beert  in  ;  grub 
is  good  ;  i\  pint  gruel  and  8  oz.  bread  for  breakfast,  and  same  for  supper. 

F  K.  W.  ;  baker.  Been  board-carrying  to-day,  earned  one  shilling,  hours 
9  till  5.  I've  been  on  this  kind  of  life  six  years.  Used  to  work  in  a  bakery, 
but  had  congestion  of  the  brain,  and  couldn't  stand  the  heat.  I've  been  in  about 
every  Casual  Ward  in  England.  They  treat  men  too  harshly.  Have  to  worl: 
very  hard,  too.  Has  had  to  work  whilst  really  unfit.  At  Peckham  (known  as 
Camberwell)  Union,  was  quite  unable  to  do  it  through  weakness,  and  appealed 
to  the  doctor,  who,  tal  "ng  the  part  of  the  other  cTicials,  as  usual,  refused  to 
allow  him  to  forego  the  work.  Cheeked  the  doctor,  telling  him  he  didn't  under- 
stand his  work  ;  result,  got  three  days*  imprisonment.  Before  going  to  a  Casual 
Ward  at  all,  I  spent  seven  consecutive  nights  on  the  Embankment  and  at  last 
went  to  the  Ward. 

The  result  of  the  deliberate  policy  of  making  the  night  refuge 
for  the  unemployed  labourer  as  disagreeable  as  possible,  and  of 
placihg  as  many  obstacles  as  possible  in  the  >vay  of  his  finding  work 
the  following  day,  is,  no  doubt,  to  minimise  the  number  of  Casuals, 
and  without  question  succeeds.  In  the  whole  of  London  the  number 
of  Casuals  in  the  wards  at  night  '~.  only  1,136.  *That  is  to 
say,  the  conditions  which  are  imposed  are  so  severe,  that  the 
majority  of  th^  Qu;-pf-Works  prefer  tp  sleep  ia  the  open  air,  taking 


„  I 


-■:■(■ 


% 


:i:ll 


72 


I8TTHERETNOTHELP  f 


their  diSWSb^iS!'  the' inclemency   and   mutability  of   our    Eiiglish 
weathcrjf  «'ith'(^  than  go  through  the  experience  of  the  Casual  Ward. 

It  seems  td  rrie  that  such  a  mode  of  coping  with  distress  does  not 
so  much  meet  tlie  difficulty  as  evade  it.  It  is  obvious  that  an 
apparatus,  wliich  only  provides  for  1,136  persons  per  night,  is 
utterly  unable  to  deal  with  the  numbers  of  the  homeless  Out-of- Works. 
Hut  if  by  some  miracle  we  could  use  the  Casual  Wards  as  a  means 
of  providing  for  all  those  who  are  seeking  w-  a.  from  day  to  day, 
without  a  place  in  which  to  lay  their  heads,  save  the  kerbstone  of  the 
pavement  or  the  back  of  a  sc"./  on  the  Embankment,  they  would  utterly 
fail  to  have  any  apprec'ible  effect  upon  the  mass  of  human  misery 
with  which  we  have  to  deal.  For  this  reason  ;  the  administration 
of  the  Casual  Wards  is  mechanical,  perfunctory,  and  formal.  Each  of 
the  Casuals  is  to  the  Officer  in  Charge  merely  one  Casual  the  more. 
There  is  no  attempt  whatever  to  do  more  than  provide  for  them 
merely  the  indispensable  requisites  of  existence.  There  has  never 
been  any  attempt  to  treat  them  as  human  beings,  to  deal  with 
them  as  individuals,  to  appeal  to  their  hearts,  to  help  them  on 
their  legs  again.  They  are  simply  units,  no  more  thought  of 
and  cared  for  than  if  they  were  so  many  coffee  beans  passing 
through  a  coffee  mill ;  and  as  the  net  result  of  all  my  experience 
and  observation  of  men  and  things,  I  must  assert  unhesitatingly 
that  anything  which  dehumanises  the  individual,  anj^thing  which 
treats  a  man  as  if  he  were  only  a  number  of  a  series  or  a  cog 
in  a  wheel,  without  any  regard  to  the  character,  the  aspirations, 
the  temptations,  and  the  idiosynrrasics  of  the  man,  must  utterly 
fail  as  a  remedial  agency.  \The  Casual  Ward,  at  the  best,  is  merely 
a  squalid  resting  place  lor  the  Casual  in  his  downward  career.  If 
anything  "^is  to- be  done  for  these  men,  it  must  be  aone  by  other 
agents  than  those  wh'ch  prevail  in  the  administration  of  the  Poor 
Lawa. 

The  second  method  in  which  Society  endeavours  to  do  its  duty  to 
the  lapsed  masses  is  by  the  miscellanftous  and  heterogeneous  efforts 
which  arc  clubbed  together  under  the  generic  head  of  Charity.  Far 
be  it  from  me  to  say  one  word  in  disparagement  of  any  effort  that 
is  prompted  by  a  sincere  desire  to  alleviate  the  misery  of  our  fellow 
creatures,  but  the  most  charitable  are  those  who  most  deplore,  the 
utter  failure  which  has,  up  till  now,  attended  all  their  efforts  to  do 
more  than  temporarily  alleviate  pain,  or  effect  ai>  ocfcasion^I  Jm- 
|)r6vem€nt  in  the  condition  pf  inUjvidutkir 


ijQHAaTIC    CHARITY. 


73 


There  are  many  institutions,^  very  excellent  in  their  way;  without 
which  it  is  difficult  to  se6  how  society  could  get  on  at  all.  but  when  they 
have  done  their  best  there  still  remains  this  great  and  appalling  mass  of 
human  misery  on  our  hand^,  a  perfect  quagmire,  of  Human  Sludge 
They  may  ladle  out  individuals  here  and  there,  but  to  drain  the  whole 
bpgis  an  effort  which  seems  to  be  beyond  the  imagination  of  most  of 
those  who  spend  their  lives  in  philanthropic  work.  It  is  no  doubt  better 
than  nothing  to  take  the  individual  and  feed  v  him  from  day  today,  to 
bandage  up  his  wounds  and  heal  his  diseases  ;  but  you  may  go  on 
doing  that  for  ever,  if  you  do  not  do  more  than  that :  and  the  worst 
of  it  is  that  all  authorities  agree  that  if  you  only  do  that  you  will 
probably  increase  the  evil  with  which  you  are  attempting  to  deal, 
and  that  you  had  much  better  let  the  whole  thing  alone- 
There  is  at  present  no  attempt  at  Concerted  Action.  ?^  Each  one 
deals  with  the  case  immediately  before  him,  and  the  result  is  what 
might  be  expected  ;  there  is  a  great  expenditure,  but  the  gains  are, 
alas  !  very  small.  The  fact,  however,  that  so  much  is  subscribed  for 
the  temporary  relief  and  the  mere  alleviation  of  distress  justifies  my 
confidence  that  if  a  Practical  Scheme  of  dealing  with  this  misery  in  a 
permanent,  comprehensive  fashion  be  discovered,  there  will  be  no  lack 
of  the  sinews  of  war.  It  is  well,  no  doubt,  sometimes  to  administer 
an  anaesthetic,  but  the  Cure  of  the  Patient  is  worth  ever  so  much 
more,  and  the  latter  is  the  object  which  we  must  constantly  set 
before  us  in  approaching  this  problem. 

The  third  method  by  which  Society  professes  to  attempt  the  re- 
clamation of  the  lost  is  by  the  rough,  rude  surgery  of  the  Gaol. 
Upon  this  a  whole  treatise  might  be  written,  but  when  it  was 
finished  it  would  be  nothing  more  than  a  demonstration  that  our 
Prison  system  has  practically  missed  aiming  at  that  which  should  be 
the  first  essential  of  every  system  of  punishment.  It  is  not  Refor- 
matory, it  is  not  worked  as  if  it  were  intended  to  be  Reformatory.  It 
is  punitive,  and  only  punitive.  The  whole  administration  needs  to  be 
reformed  from  top  to  bottom  in  accordance  with  this  fundamental  prin- 
ciple,  viz.,  that  while  every  prisoner  should  be  subjected  to  that 
me«»tire"pX'pBHisTiment  which  shall  mark  a  due  ^sense~6f  \i!s"c'rTme 
both  to  himself  and  society,  the  main  object  should  be  to  rouse  in  nis 
mintrtfie  desire  to  teadafftibnestltf^raftrtT^iT^^  in 

his  Hispbsition  and  character  which  will  send  him  forth  to'  fttt 
tifiikt  desirte'  into  practice.  At  present,  every  Prisbti^^  vaixt 
pr.' less  a  Training   School   for  Crime,  anuhitrodudtion.  toitliie 


74 


IS   THERE    NO^HELPf 


*rwi"i 


society  of  criminals,  the  petrifaction  of  any  lingering  human 
feeling  and  a  very  Bastille  of  Despair.  The  prison  brand 
is  stamped  upon  those  who  go  in,  and  that  so  deeply,  that 
it  seems  as  if  it  clung  to  them  for  life.  To  enter  Prison  once, 
means  in  many  cases  an  almost  certain  return  there  at  an  early 
date.  All  this  has  to  be  changed,  and  will  be,  when  once  the 
work  of  Prison  Reform  is  taken  in  hand  by  men  who  understand 
the  subject,  who  believe  in  the  reformation  of  human  nature  in  every 
form  which  its  depravity  can  assume,  and  who  are  in  full  sympathy 
with  the  class  for  whose  bent-fit  they  labour ;  and  when  those 
charged  directly  with  the  care  of  criminals  seek  to  work  out  their 
regeneration  in  the  same  spirit. 

The  question  of  Prison  Reform  is  all  the  more  important  because  it 
is  only  by  the  agency  of  the  Gaol  that  Society  attempts  to  deal  with 
its  hopeless  cases.  If  a  woman,  driven  mad  with  shame,  flings 
herself  into  the  river,  and  is  fished  out  alive,  we  clap  her  into  Prison 
on  a  charge  of  attempted  suicide.  If  a  man>  despairing  of  work  and 
gaunt  with  hunger,  helps  himself  to  food,  it  is  to  the  same  reformatory 
agency  that  he  is  forthwith  subjected.  The  rough  and  ready  surgery 
with  which  we  deal  with  our  social  patients  recalls  the  simple 
method  of  the  early  physicians.  The  tradition  still  lingers  among 
old  people  of  doctors  who  prescribed  bleeding  lor  every  ailment, 
and  of  keepers  of  asylums  whose  one  idea  of  ministering  to  a 
mind  diseased  was  to  put  the  body  into  a  strait  waistcoat.  Modern 
science  laughs  to  scorn  these  simple  "  remedies"  of  an  unscientific  age, 
and  declares  that  they  were,  in  most  cases,  the  most  efficacious 
means  of  aggravating  the  disease  they  professed  to  cure.  But  in 
social  maladies  we  are  still  in  the  age  of  the  Liood-letter  and"  the 
stratrwaistcoat.'^The"Ga6t1S'6uf  s^^^^  all 

else  fails  *1Society  will  always  undertake  to  feed,  clothe,  warm,  and 
house  a  man,  if  only  he  will  commit  a  crime.  It  will  do  it  also  in 
such  a  fashion  as  to  render  it  no  temporary  help,  but  a  permanent 
necessity. 

Society  says  to  the  individual :  "  To  qualify  for  free  board  and 
lodging  you  must  commit  a  crime.  But  if  you  do  you  must  pay  the 
price.  You  must  allow  me  to  ruin  your  character,  and  doom 
you  for  the  rest  of  your  life  to  destitution,  modified  •  by  the 
occasional  successes  of  criminality.  You  shall  become  the  Child 
of  the  State,  on  condition  that  we  doom  you  tQ  a  tem- 
poral perditioni  out  of  which  you  will  never  be  permitted  to  escape, 


EMIGRATION    AS   A    PANACEA. 


/6 


and  in  which  ^ou  will  always  be  a  charge  upon  our  resources  and  a 
constant  souice  of  anxiety  and  inconvenience  to  the  authorities.  I 
will  feed  you,  certainly^  bat  in  retMrfi^--yPU4aMst  permit  me  to  damn 
you!*"    1* hat  sualy .  ought'  not. to  be  the  last  word' 6t  Civilised 

**T!crtainly  noi,  ^  say  others.  "  Emigration  is  the  true  specific. 
Th^  waste  lands  oPthe  world  are' crying  aloud  for  the  application  of 
surplus  labour.  Emigration  is  the  panacea."  Now  I  have  no  objec- 
tion to  emigration.  Only  a  criminal  lunatic  could  seriously  object  to 
the  transference  of  hungry  Jack  from  an  overcrowded  shanty — 
where  he  cannot  even  obtain  enough  bad  potatoes  to  dull  the 
ache  behind  his  waistcoat,  and  is  '  tempted  to  let  his  child 
die  for  the  sake  of  the  insurance  money — to  a  land  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey,  where  he  can  eat  meat  three  times 
a  day  and  where  a  man's  children  are  his  wealth.  But  you 
might  as  well  lay  a  new-born  child  naked  in  the  middle  of  a  new-sown 
field  in  March,  and  expect  it  to  live  and  thrive,. as  expect  emigration 
to  produce  successful  results  on  the  lines  which  some  lay  down. 
The  child,  no  doubt,  has  within  it  latent  capacities  which,  when  years 
and  training  have  done  their  work,  will  enable  him  to  reap  a  harvest 
from  a  fertile  soil,  and  the  new  sown  field  will  be  covered  with 
golden  grain  in  August.  But  these  facts  will  not  enable  the  infant 
to  still  its  hunger  with  the  clods  of  the  earth  in  the  cold  spring  time. 
It  is  just  like  that  with  emigration.  It  is  simply  criminal  to  take  a 
multitude  of  untrained  men  and  women  and  land  them  penniless  and 
helpless  on  the  fringe  of  some  new  continent.  The  result  of  such 
proceedings  we  see  in  the  American  cities;  in  the  degradation  of  their 
slums,  and  in  the  hopeless  demoralisation  of  thousands  who,  in  their 
Qwn  country,  were  living  decent,  industrious  lives. 

A  few  months  since,  in  Paramatta,  in  New  South  Wales,  a  young 
man  who  had  emigrated  with  a  vague  hope  of  mending  his  fortunes, 
found  himself  homeless,  friendless,  and  penniless.  He  was  a  clerk. 
They  wanted  no  more  clerks  in  Paramatta.  Trade  was  dull,  employ- 
ment was  8ca#ce,  even  for  trained  hands.  He  went  about  from  day 
to  day  seeking  work  and  finding  none. "  At  last  he  came  to  the  end 
of  all  his  resources.  He  went  all  day  without  food ;  at  night  he 
slept  as  best  he  could.  Morning  came,  and  he  was  hopeless. 
All  next  day .  passed  without  a  meal.  Night  came.  He  could  not 
sleep.  He  wandered  about  restlessly.  ;  At  last,  about  midnight,,' an 
Idea  eozed  him.    (braspiiig  a  brick,  ke  deliberately  walked  up  "to  a 


i; 


,i\. 


76 


IS  THERE   NO  HELPt 


jeweller's   window,   and  smashed  a  hole  through  the  glass.     He 

made   no   attempt   to  steal  anything.     He  merely    smashed    the 

pane    and  then   sat  down  on  the  pavement  beneath  the  window, 

waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  policeman.     He  waited  some  hours ; 

but  at  last  the  constable  arrived.     He  gave  himself  up,  and  was 

marched  off  to  the  lock-up.     "  I  shall  at  least  have  something  to  eat 

now,"  was  the  reflection.     He  was  right.     He  was  sentenced  to 

one  year's  imprisonment,  and  he  is  in  gaol  at  this  hour.    This  very 

morning  he  received  his  rations,  and  at  this  very  moment  he  is 

lodged,  and  clothed  and  cared  for  at  the  cost  of  the  rates  and  taxes. 

He  has  become  the  child  of  the  State,  and,  therefore,  one  of  the 

socially  damned.     Thus  emigration    itself,    instead  of    being  an 

invariable  specific,  sometimes  brings  us  back  again  to  the  gaol  door,  'f 

Emigration,  by  all  means.      But  whom  are  you  to  emigrate? 

These  girls  who  do  not  know  how  to  bake  ?    These  lads  who  never 

handled  a  spade  ?     And  where  are  you  to  emigrate  them  ?    Are 

you  going  to  make  the  Colonies  the  dumping  ground  of  your  human 

refuse  ?    On  that  the  colonists  will  have  something  decisive  to  say,' 

where  there  are  colonists  ;  and  where  there  are  not,  how  are  you 

to  feed,  clothe,  and  employ  your  emigrants  in  the  uninhabited 

wilderness?     Immigration,  no  doubt,  is  i       making  of  a  colony,' 

just  as  bread  is  the  staff  of  life.     But  if  you  were  to  cram  a  stomach 

with  wheat   by  a   force-pump  you   would  bring  on  such  a  fit  of 

indigestion  that  unless  your  victim  threw  up  the  indigestible  mass 

of  unground,  uncooked,  unmasticated  grain  he  would  never  want 

another  meal.    So  it  is  with  the  new  colonies  and  the  surplus  labour 

of  other  countries. 

Emigration  is  in  itself  not  a  panacea.  Is  Education  ?  .-  In  one 
sense  it  may  be,  for  Education,  the  developing  in  a  man  of  all  his 
latent  capacities  for  improvement,  may  cure  anything  and  everytliing. 
But  the  Education  of  which  men  speak  when  they  use  the  term,  is 
mere  schooling.  No  one  but  a  fool  would  say  a  word  against  school 
teaching.  By  all  means  let  us  have  our  children  educated.  But 
when  we  have  passed  them  through  the  Board  School  Mill  we  have 
enough  experience  to  see  that  they  do  not  emerge  the  *  renovated 
and  regenerated  beings  whose  advent  was  expected  bjr  those  who 
passed  the  Education  Act.  The  "  scuttlers  "  who  knife  inoffensive 
persons  in  Lancashire,  the  fighting  gangs  of  the  West  of  London^^ 
l^long  to  the  generation  that  has  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  Compulsoj^ 
Education.      Education,    book-learning    and    schooling  _will    not 


THE    LIMITATIONS 


OF    TRADES    UNIONISM. 


77 


■rt~ 

ass. 


He 

shed    the 
I  window, 
le  hours ; 
and  was 
ing  to  eat 
enced  to 
This  very 
;nt  he  is 
nd  taxes, 
le  of  the 
being  an 
io\  door.  ^■ 
migrate  ? 
rho  never 
n?    Are 
ir  human 
re  to  say," 
■  are  you 
inhabited 
El  colony/ 
I  stomach 
i  a  fit  of 
ible  mass 
/er  want 
is  labour 

■^'  In  one 
f  all  his 
irytliing. 
:  term,  is 
St  school 
id.  But 
ive  have 
movated 
ose  who 
)frensive 
London^ 
ipulsoiqr 
rill    not 


Solve  the  difficulty.-  It  helps,"^no  doubt.  But  in  some  ways  it 
aggravates  it.  The  common  school  to  which  the  children  of 
thieves  and  harlots  and  drunkards  are  driven,  to  sit  side  by  side 
with  our  little  ones,  is  oftcft  b}'  nn  means  a  temple  of  all  the  virtues.' 
It  is  sometimes  a  university  of  all  the  vices.  The  Lad  infect  the 
good,  and  your  boy  and  girl  come  back  reeking  with  the  contamina- 
tion of  bad  associates,  and  familiar  with  the  coarsest  obscenity  of 
the  slum.  Another  great  evil  is  the  extent  to  which  our  Education 
tends  to  overstock  the  labour  market  with  material  for  quill-drivers 
and  shopmen,  and  gives  our  youth  a  distaste  for  sturdy  labour. 
Many  of  the  most  hopeless  cases  in  our  Shelters  are  men  of  con- 
ciderable  education.  Our  schools  help  to  enable  a  starving  man  to 
tell  his  story  in  more  grammatical  language  than  that  which  his 
father  could  have  employed,  but  they  do  not  feed  him,  or  teach  him 
7/here  to  go  to  get  fed.  So  far  from  doing  this  they  increase  the  ten- 
dency to  drift  into  those  channels  where  food  is  least  secure,  because 
employment  is  most  uncertain,  and  the  market  most  overstocked. 

"  Try  Trades  Unionism,"  say  some,  and  their  advice  is  being 
widely  followed.  There  arfe  many  and  great  advantages  in  Trades 
Unionism.  The  fable  of  the  bundle  of  sticks  is  good  for  all  time. 
The  more  the  working  people  can  be  banded  together  in  voluntary 
organisations,  created  and  administered  by  themselves  for  the 
protection  of  their  own  interests,  the  better — at  any  rate  for  this 
world — and  not  only  for  their  own  interests,  but  for  those  of  every 
other  section  of  the  community.  But  can  we  rely  upon  this  agency 
as  a  means  of  solving  the  problems  which  confront  us  ?  Trades 
Unionism  has  had  the  field' to  itself  for  a  generation.  It  is  twenty 
years  since  it  was  set  free  from  all  the  legal  disabilities  under  which 
it  laboured.  But  it  has  not  covered  the  land.  It  has  not  organised  all 
skilled  labour.  Unskilled  labour  is  almost  untouched.  At  the 
Congress  at  Liverpool  only  one  and  a  half  million  workmen  were 
represented.  Women  are  almost  entirely  outside  the  pale.  Trade 
Unions  not  only  represent  a  fraction  of  the  labouring  classes,  but 
they  are,  by  their  constitution,  unable  to  deal  with  those  who  do 
not  belong  to  their  body.  What  ground  can  there  be,  then,  for 
hoping  that  Trades  Unionism  will  by  itself  solve  the  difficulty? 
The  most  experienced  Trades  Unionists  will  be  the  first  to  admit  that 
any  scheme  which  could  deal  adequately  with  the  out-of-works  and 
others  who  hang  on  to  their  skirts  and  form  the  recruiting  ground 
pf  blacklejgs  and  ?mtojirr^s§  tliem  in  every  way,  woul?l  be,^  of  9\^ 


J  ■ 


78 


18   THERE   NO    HELPr 


%      y 


oUler»  that  whl^h  would  be  most  benef.cial  to  Trades  Unionism. 
The  same  may  be  said  about  Co-operation.  Personally,  I  am 
a  strong  believer  in  Co-operation,  but  it  must  be  Co-operation  based 
uu  the  spirit  uf  benevolence.  I  don't  see  how  any  pacific  re-adjust- 
ment of  the  social  and  economic  relations  between  classes  in  this 
country  can  be  effected  except  by'  the  gradual  substitution  of  co- 
operative associations  for  the  present  wages  system.  As  you 
will  see  in  subsequent  chapters,  so  far  from  there  being  anything  in 
my  proposals  that  would  militate  in  any  way  against  the  ultimate 
adoption  of  the  co-operative  solution  of  'the  question,  I  look  to 
Co-operation  as  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  hope  in  the  future.  But 
we  have  not  to  deal  with  the  ultimate  future,  but  with  the  immediate 
present,  and  fior  the  evils  with  which  we  are  dealing  the  existing  cc  - 
operative  organisations  do  not  and  cannot  give  us  much  help.. 

Another — I  do  not  like  to  call  it  specific  ;  it  is  only  a  name,  a  mere 
mockery  of  a  specific — so  let  me  call  it  another  suggestion  made 
when  discussing  this  evil,  is  Thrift.  Thrift  is  a  great  virtue  no 
doubt.  But  how  is  Thrift  to  benefit  those  who  have  nothing? 
What  is  the  use  of  the  gospel  of  Thrift  to  a  man  who  had  nothing 
to  eat  yesterday,  and  has  not  threepence  to-day  to  pay  for  his  lodging 
to-night?  To  live  on  njjthjiiga-iiay-is  difficult  f;iOi^ 
on  it  would  beafthe  cleverest  politjcal  economist  that  ever  lived.  I 
adrnit~'with6ii[l"h"esrtatioti  that  apy  Scheme  which  weakened  the 
incentive  to  Thrift  would  do  harm.  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  imagine 
that  social  damnation  is  an  incentive  to  Thrift.  It  operates  least 
where  its  force  ought  to  be  most  felt.  There  is  no  fear  that  any 
Scheme  that  we  can  devise  will  appreciably  diminish  the  deterrent 
influences  which  dispose  a  man  to  save.  But  it  is  idle  wasting  time 
upon  a  plea  that  is  only  brought  forward  as  an  excuse  for  inaction. 
Thrift  is  a  great  virtue,  the  inculcation  of  which  must  be 
constantly  kept  in  view  by  all  those  who  are  attempting  to 
educate  and  save  the  people.  It  is  not  in  any  sense  a  specific  for  the 
salvation  of  the  lapsed  and  the  lost.  Even  among  the  most  wretched 
of  the  very  poor,  a  man  must  have  an  object  and  a  hope  before  he 
will  save  a  halfpenny.  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
perish,"  sums  up  the  philosophy  of  those  who  have  no  hope.  In  the 
thriftiness  of  the  French  peasant  we  see  that  the  temptation 
of  eating  and  drinking  is  capable  of  being  resolutely  subordinated  to 
die  superior  claims  of  the  accumulation  of  a  dowry  for  the  daughtef| 
or  for  the  acquisition  of  a  little  more  land  for  the  son.  ,■ 


eOCIAUST  UTOPIANISM. 


9t 


Unionism, 
ly,  I  am 
on  based 
e-adjust- 
in  this 
n  of  co- 
As  you 
thing  in 
ultimate 
look  to 
e.     But 
imediatr; 
ting  cc- 
)., 

,  a  mere 
>n  made 
irtuc  no 
lothing  ? 
nothing 
lodginn; 
-to  save 
ived.     J. 
ned  the 
imagine 
es  least 
hat  any 
eterrent 
ng  time 
naction. 
ust    be 
ting   to 
for  the 
retched 
fore  he 
row  we 
In  the 
ptation 
ated  to 
Jghter, 


Or<ihe>rs"cliemes  of  those  who-Tn-opose  to  bring  in  a  new  heaven 
and'a  new  <arth  by  a  more  scientific  distribution  of  the  pieces  of  gold 
and  silver  in  the  trouser  pockets  of  mankind,  I  need  not  say  anything 
here.-. They  may  be  good  or  they  may  not.  I  say  nothing  against  any 
short  cut  to  the  Millennium  that  is  compatible  with  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments. T  intensely  sympathise  with  the  aspirations  that  lie 
behind  all  these  Socialist  dreams.  But  whether  it  is  Henry 
Georgo's  Single  Tax  on  Land  Values,  or  Edward  Bellamy's  National- 
ism, or  the  more  elaborate  schemes  of  the  Collectivists,  my  attitu<J-2 
towards  them  all  is  the  same.  What  these  good  people  want 
to  do,  J  also  want  to  do.  But  I  am  a  practical  man,  deal- 
ing with  the  actualities  of  to-day.  I  have  no  preconceived 
theories,  and  I  flatter  myseli  I  am  singularly  free  from  prejudicer.. 
I  am  ready  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  any  who  will  show  me  any  good.  1 
keep  my  mind  open  on  all  these  subjects  ;  and  am  quite  prepared  to 
hail  with  open  anns  any  Utopia  that  is  offered  me.  But  it  must  be 
within  range  of  my  finger-tips.  It  is  of  no  use  to  me  if  it  is  in  the 
clouds.  Cheques  on  the  Bank  of  Futurity  I  accept  gladly  enough 
aSs^a  free  gift,  but  I  can  hardly  be  expected  to  take  them  as  if  they 
were  current  coin,  or  to  try  to  cash  them  at  the  Bank  of  England. 

It  may  be  that  nothing  will  be  put  permanently^  right  until  every- 
thing" Has  beefi"turried  upsrdS'^iSo^^lt'^T^  are  HffamJy  so 
many  things' thtt*-^HBced'tfstilit8nmng^  beginning  with  the  heart  of 
each  individual  man  and  woman,  that  I  do  not  quarrel  with  any 
Visionary  when  in  his  intense  longing  for  the  amelioration  of  the 
condition  of  mankind  he  lays  down  his  theories  as  to  the  necessity 
for  radical  change,  however  impracticable  they  may,  appear  ta  me* 
But  this  is  the  question.  Here  at  our  Sy  Iters  last  night 
were  a  thousand  hungry,  workless  people,  i  want  to  know 
what  to  do  with  them?  Here  is  John  Jones,  a  stout  stalwart 
labourer  in  rags,  who  has  not  had  one  square  meal  for  a  month,  who 
has  been  hunting  for  work  that  will  enable  him  to  keep  body  and 
soul  together,  and  hunting  in  vain.  There  he  is  in  his  hungry 
raggedness,  asking  for  work  that  he  may  live,  al^d  not  die  of  sheer 
starvation  in  the  midst  of  the  wealthiest  city  in  the  world.  ,  What  is 
torhe  done  with  John  Jones  2 

"Hie  individualist  tells  me^that  the  free  plaxof  the  Na*.u-?il  Laws 
governing  the  struggle  for.«xislence  will  result  in  the  Survival  of  the 
Fittest,*^and  that  in  the  course  of  a  few  ages^.  more  or  less,  a  much 
nobler  typft  will  be^volved.    But  jneanwhUgjvhjit  ia.Jto  become  of  Johp 


.'.,-.yi 


80 


18  THERE   NO   HELP? 


Jones  ?  The  Socialist  tells  me  that  the  great  Social  Revolution  is 
looming  larfje  on  the  horizon.  In  the  good  time  coming,  when  wealth 
will  be  rc-distributed  and  private  property  abolished,  all  stomachs 
will  be  filled  and  there  will  be  no  more  John  Jones**  impatiently 
clamouring  for  opportunity  to  work  that  they  may  not  die.  It  may 
be  so,  but  in  the  meantime  here  is  John  Jones  growing  more  im- 
patient than  ever  because  hungrier,  who  wonders  if  he  is  to  wait  for 
a  dinner  until  the  Social  Revolution  has  arrived.  What  are  we  to  do 
with  John  Jones  ?  That  is  the  question.  And  to  the  solution  of  that 
question  none  of  the  Utopians  give  me  mucli  help.  For  practical  pur- 
poses these  dreamers  fall  under  the  condemnation  they  lavish  so  freely 
upon  the  conventional  religious  people  who  relieve  themselves  of  all 
anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  the  poor  by  saying  that  in  the  next  world 
all  will  be  put  right.  ThisreHjg^gHg^antj  which  ridsjig^^^j]^  alljhe 
importunity  of  suffering  "Humanity  by  drawing  unri^otiable  bills  pay- 
abhrim~theoth«i*'%ia^"bf  thigfrvi^^^^  than 

thgnSoHairsliS^tlap^trap  which  postpones  uU  redress  of  human  suffer- 
ing until  after  the  general  overturn.  Both  take  refuge  in  the  Future 
to  escape  a  solution  of  the  problems  of  the  Present,  and  it  matters 
little  to  the  sufferers  whether  the  Future  is  on  thir  side  of  the  grave 
or  the  other.    Both  are,  for  them,  equally  out  of  reach. 

When  the  sky  falls  we  shall  catch  larks.  No  doubt.  But  in  the 
meantime  ? 

It  is  the  meantime — that  is  the  only  time  in  which  we  have  to  work. 
It  is  in  the  meantime  that  the  people  must  be  fed,  that  their  life's  work 
must  be  done  or  left  undone  for  ever.  Nothing  that  I  have  to 
propose  in  this  book,  or  that  I  propose  to  do  by  my  Scheme,  will  in 
the  least  prevent  the  coming  of  any  of  the  Utopias.  I  leave  the 
limitless  infinite  of  the  Future  to  the  Utopians.  They  may  build 
there  as  they  p^oase.  As  for  me,  it  is  itulispensable  that  whatever  I 
do  is  founded  on  existing  fact,  and  provides  a  present  help  for  the 
actual  need. 

There  is  only  one  class  of  men  who  have  cause  to  oppose  the 
proposals  which  I  am  about  to  set  forth.  That  is  those,  if  such 
there  be,  who  are  determined  to  bring  about  by  any  and  every  means 
a  bloody  and  violent  overturn  of  all  existing  institutions.  They  will 
oppose  the  Scheme,  and  they  will  act  logically  in  so  doing.  Fofthe  only 
hope  of  those  who  are  the  artificers  of  R.evolutiOn  is  the  mads  of^^ething 
discontent  and  misery  that  lies  in  the  heart  "of  thfe  8ocial'^%yiitem. 
Honestly  believing  that  things  intint  get  worse  before  they  get 


i 


fi 


THE   SOLDIERS   OF  DESPAIR. 


81 


better,  .they  build  all  their  hopes  upon  the  general  overturn,  and 
they  resent  as  an  indefinite  postponement  of  the  realisation  of  their 
dreams  any  attempt  at  a  reduction  of  human  misery. 

The  Army  of  the  Revolution  is  recruited  by  the  Soldiers  of  Despair 
Therefore,  down  with  any  Scheme  which  gives  men  Hope.  In  so  far  as 
it  succeeds  it  curtails  our  recruiting  ground  and  reinforces  the  ranks 
of  our  Enemies.  Such  opposition  is  to  be  counted  upon,  and  to  be 
utilised  as  the  best  of  all  tributes  to  the  value  of  our  work.  Those 
who  thus  count  upon  violence  and  bloodshed  are  too  few  to  hinder, 
and  their  opposition  will  merely  add  to  the  momentum  with  which  I 
hope  and  believe  this  Scheme  will  ultimately  be  enabled  to  surmount 
all  dissent,  and  achieve,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  that  measure  of 
success  with  which  I  verily  believe  it  to  be  charged. 


A  .' 


ii    ! 


.1 


PART     II.^  DELIVERANCE 


f-  ;       CHAPTER  I. 
A  STUPEKDOUS  UNDERTAKJNa 

Such,  then,  is  a  brief  and  hurried  survey  of  Darkest  England,  and 
those  v/ho  have  been  in  the  depths  of  the  enchanted  forest  in  which 
wander  the  tribes  of  the  despairing  Lost  will  be  the  first  to  admit 
that  I   have  in  no  way  exaggerated  its  horrors,  while  most  will 
assert  that  I  have  under-estimated  the  number  of  its  denizens.     I 
have,  indeed,  very  scrupulously  striven  to  keep  my  estimates  of  the 
extent  of  the  evil  within  the  lines  of  sobriety.     Nothing  in  such  an 
enterprise  as  that  on  which  I  am  entering  could  worse  befall  me 
than  to  come  under  the  reproach  of  sensationalism  or  exa^eration. 
Most  of  the  evidence  upon  vvhich  I  have  relied  is  taken  direct  from 
the    official     statistics    supplied     by    the    Government     Returns; 
and     as    to    the    rest,    I     can     only    say    that    if    my    figures 
are  compared   with  those  of  any  other  writer  upon   this  subject, 
it  will  be  found  that  my  estimates    are  the  lowest.     I  am  not 
prepared  to  defend  the  exact  accuracy  of  my  calculations,  excepting 
so  far  as  they  constitute  the  minimum.    To  those  who  believe  that 
the  numbers  of  the  wretched  are  far  in  excess  of  my  figures,  I  have 
nothing  to  say,  excepting  this,  that  if  the  evil  is  so  much  greater  than 
I  have  described,  then  let  your  efforts   be  proportioned  to  your 
estimate,  not  to  mine.    The  great  point  with  each  of  us  is,  not  how 
many  of  the  wretched  exist  to-day,  but  how  few  shall  there  exist  in 
the  years  that  are  to  come. 

The  dark  and  dismal  jungle  of  pauperism,  vice,  and  despair  is  the 
inheritance  to  which  we  have  succeeded  from  the  generations  and 
centuries  past,    during  which    wars,    insurrections,  and   internal 


'84 


A   STUPENDOUS 


UNDERTAKING 


1  .i'ti...:,,4iJfii  m 


troubles  left  our  forefathers  small  leisure  to  attend  to  thd  welf-btiiig 
of  the  sunken  tenth.  Now  that  we  have  happened  upan  more 
fortunate  times,  let  us  recognise  that  we  are  our  brother's  keeper?^ 
and  set  to  work,  regardless  of  party,  distinctions  and  religious 
differences,  to  make  this  world  of  ours  a  little  bit  more  like  home  for 
those  whom  we  call  our  brethren 

T^e  problem,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  "by  no  means  a  simple  one ; 
nor  can  anyone  accuse  me  in  the  foregoing  pages  of  having  mini- 
mised the  difficulties  which  heredity,  habit,  and  surroundings  place  in 
the  way  of  its  solution,  but  unless  we  are  prepared  to  fold  our  arms 
in  selfish  ease  and  say  that  nothing  can  be  done,  and  thereby  dooui 
those  Uost  millions  to  remediless  perdition  in  this  world,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  next,  the  problem  must  be  solved  in  some  way.  But 
in: what  way?  That  is  the  question.  It  may  tend,  perhaps,  to 
the  crystallisation  of  opinion  on  this  subject  if  I  lay  down,  with 
such  precision  as  I  can  command,  what  must  be  the  essential 
dements  of  any  scheme  likely  to  command  success. 


W    !• 


Section  i.— THE  ESSENTIALS  TO  SUCCES& 

The  first  essential  that  must  be  borne  in  mind  as  governing  every 
Scheme  that  ma^  be  put  forward  is  that  it  must  change  the  man  when 
it  is  his  character  and  conduct  wntcn  constitute  the  reasons  for  his  failure 
in  the  battle  of  life.  No  change  in  circumstances,  no  revolution  in 
social  conditions,  can  possibly  transform  the  nature  of  man.  Some 
of  the  worst  men  and  women  in  the  world,  whose  names  are 
chronicled  by  history  with  a  shudder  of  horror,  were  those  who  had 
all  the  advantages  that  wealth,  education  and  station  could  confer  or 
ambition  could  attain. 

The  supreme  test  of  any  scheme  for  benefiting  numanity  lies  in  the 
answer  to  the  question,  What  does  it  make  of  the  individual?  Does 
it  quicken  his  conscience,  does  it  soften  his  heart,  does  it  enlighten 
his  mind,  does  it,  in  short,  make  more  of  a  true  man  of  him,  because  only 
by  such  influences  can  he  be  enabled  to  lead  a  human  life?  Among  the 
denizens  of  Darkest  England  there  are  many  who  have  found  their  way 
thither  by  defects  of  character  which  would  under  the  most  favourable 
circumstances  relegate  them  to  the  same  position.  Hence,  unless  you 
can  change  their  character  your  labour  will  be  lost.  You  may  clothe 
the  drunkard,  fill  his  purse  with  gold,  establish  him  in  a  well-furnished 
home,  and  in  three,  or  six,  or  twelve  months  he  will  once  more  be  on 
the  Embanknient,  haunted  by  delirium  tremens,  dirty,  squalid,  and 
ragged.  Hence,  in  all  cases  where  a  man's  own  character  and 
defects  constitute  the  reasons  for  his  fall,  that  character  must  be 
changed  and  that  conduct  altered  if  any  permanent  beneficial  results 
are  to  be  attained.  If  he  is  a  drunkard,  he  must  be  made  sober; 
if  iu%  he  must  be  made  industrious  ;  if  criminal,  he  must  be  made 
honest;  if  impure,  he  must  be  made  clean  ;  and  if  he  be  so  deep 
down  -n  vice,  and  has  been  there  so  long  that  he  has  lost  all  heart, 
and  hope,  and  power  to  help  >-'mself,  and  absolutely  refuses  to  move, 
kc  must  be  inspired  with  hope  and  have  created  within  him  the 
ar'jition  to  rise ;  otherwise  he  will  never  ^cc  out  of  th?  horrible  pit, 


M 


'  ( 


se 


WffS^mmsmmmm 


THE    ESSENTIALS    TO    SUCCESS. 


Secondly  :  The  remedy,  to  be  ejffectuaL  must  change  the  circumstances 
of  the  individual  when  they  are  the  cause  of  his  wretched  coar'^ition,  and 
lie  beyond  his  control.  Among  those  who  have  arrived  at  their 
present  evil  plight  through  faults  of  self-indulgence  or  some  defect  in 
their  moral  character,  how  many  are  there  who  would  have  been  very 
difterently  placed  to-day  had  their  surroundings  been  otherwise  ? 
Charles  Kingsley  puts  this  very  abruptly  where  he  makes  the. 
Poacher's  widow  say,  when  addressing  the  Bad  Squire,  who  drew  back 

*♦  Our  daughters,  with  base-bom  babies, 
Have  wandered  away  in  their  shame. 
If  your  misses  had  slept,  Squire,  where  they  did, 
Your  misses  might  do  the  same.' 

Placed  in  the  same  or  similar  circumstances,  how  many  of  us  v/o?:M 
hav2  turned  out  better  than  this  poor,  lapsed,  sunken  multitude  ? 

M;;r-y  of  this  crowd  have  never  had  a  chancejof  doi5g.^^^ier;  they 
h  ?.\^i?iSetft(ora"rrilr']b6ispncd  fttmoB^^^ 

v/incTT  have  rendered  modesty  an  impossibility,  and  have  been 
thrown  iStb  life  in  conditions  which  malce  vice  a.  second  nature. 
Hence,  to  provide  an  effective  remedy  for  the  evils  which  Vvs 
p.re  deploring  these  circumstances  must  be  altered,  and  unless 
my  Scheme  effects  such  a  change,  it  will  be  of  no  use. 
There  are  multitudes,  myriads,  of  men  and  •  women,  who 
are  fioundering  in  the  horrible  quagmire  beneath  the  burden 
of  a  load  too  heavy  for  them  to  bear;  every  plunge  they 
take  forward  lands  them  deeper ;  some  have  ceased  even  to 
struggle,  and  lie  prone  in  the  filthy  bog,  slOwly  suffocating, 
with  their  manhood  and  womanhood  all  but  perished.  It  is 
no  use  standing  on  the  firm  bank  of  the  quaking  morass  and 
anathematising  these  poor  wretches ;  if  you  arc  to  do  them  any  good, 
you  must  give  them  another  chance  to  get  on  their  feet,  you  m.ust 
give  them  firm  foothold  upon  which  they  can  once  more  stand  upright, 
and  you  must  build  stepping-stones  across  the  bog  to  enable  them 
safely  to  reach  the  otlier  c-icie.  Favourable  circumstances  will  not 
change  a  man's  heart  or  transform  his  nature,  but  unpropitious 
circ'.imstances  may  render  it  absolutely  impossible  for  him  to  escape, 
Rorr.attcr  how  he  may  desire  to  e;^f;ricate  himself.  The  first  step  with 
these  helpless,  sunken  creaturer.  is  to  create  the  desire  to  escape,  and 
then  provide  the  means  for  doing  so.  In  other  words,  give  the  man 
Another  chance. 


WHAT  THE  SCHEME  MUST  BE  AND  MUST  NOT  BE       87 

Thirdly :  Af{y  remedy  worthy  of  conuderation  must  be  on  a 
I  scale  commensurate  with  the  evil  with  which  it  proposes  to  deal.  It 
is  no  use  Crying  to  bail  out  the  ocean  with  a  pint  pot.  This  evil  is 
one  whose  victims  are  counted  by  the  million.  The  army  of  the  Lost 
in  our  mid.:t  exceeds  the  numbers  of  that  multitudinous  host  which 
Xerxes  led  from  Asia  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Greece.  -  Pass  in 
parade  tho^^e  who  make  up  the  submeiged  tenth,  count  the 
paupers  indoor  and  outdoor,  the  homeless,  the  starving,  the 
criminals,  the  lunatics,  the  drunkards,  and  the  harlots — and  yet 
do  not  give  way  to  despair  1  Even  to  attempt  to  save  a  tithe  of 
this  host  requires  that  we  should  put  much  more  force  and  fire  into 
our  work  than  has  hitherto  been  exhibited  by  anyone.  There  must 
be  no  more  philanthropic  tinkering,  as  if  this  vast  sea  of  human 
misery  were  contained  in  the  limits  of  a  garden  pond. 

Fourthly :  Not  only  must  the  Scheme  be  large  enough,  but  it  must 
bi  permanent.  That  is  to  say,  it  must  not  be  merely  a  spasmodic 
effort  coping  with  the  misery  of  to-day ;  it  must  be  established 
on  a  durable  footing,  so  as  to  go  on  dealing  with  the  misery  of  to- 
morrow and  the  day  after,  so  long  as  there  is  misery  left  in  the  world 
with  which  to  grapple. 

Fiuhly  :  But  while  it  must  be  permanent,  it  must  also  be  immediately 
practicable.  Any  Scheme,  to  be  of  use,  must  be  capable  of  being 
brought  into  instant  operation  with  beneficial  results. 

Sixthly :  The  indirect  features  of  the  Scheme  must  not  be  such  as 
tc  produce  injury  to  the  persons  whom  we  seek  to  benefit.  Mere 
charity,  for  instance,  while  relieving  the  pinch  of  hunger,  de- 
moralises the  recipient ;  and  whatever  the  remedy  is  that  we  employ, 
it  must  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to  do  good  without  doing  evil  at  the 
same  time.  It  is  no  use  conferring  sixpennyworth  of  benefit  on  a 
p:in  if,  at  the  same  time,  we  do  him  a  shilling'sworth  of  harm. 

Seventhly  :  V/htle  assisting  one  class  of  the  community,  it  must  not 
seriouzly  interfere  zvitk  the  interests  of  another.  In  raising  one  section 
of  the  fallen,  we  mvtet  not  thereby  endanger  the  safety  of  those  who 
with  difficulty  are  keeping  on  their  feet. 

These  are  the  conditions  by  which  I  ask  you  to  test  the  Scheme  1 
am  about  to  unfold.  They  are  formidable  enough,  possibly,  to  deter 
maay  from  even  attempting  to  do  anything.  They  arc  not  of  my 
BMiking.  They  are  obvious  to  anyone  who  looks  into  the  matter. 
They  are  the  laws  which  govern  the  work  of  the*  philanthropic 


^1^ 


ii.i-«  KMn*  J."3t?5*r,: 


) 


] 


THE   ESSENTIALS  TO  SUCCESS. 


reformer,  just  as  the  laws  of  gravitation,  of  wind  and  of  weather, 
govern  the  operations  of  the  engineer.  It  is  no  use  saying  we  could 
build  a  bridge  across  the  Tay  if  the  wind  did  not  blow,  or  that  we 
could  build  a  failv/ay  across  a  bog  if  the  quagmire  would  afford  us  a 
solid  foundation.  The  engineer  has  to  take  into  account  the  difficulties, 
and  make  them  his  starting  point.  The  wind  will  blow,  therefore 
the  bridge  must  be  made  strong  enough  to  resist  it.  Chat  Moss  will 
shake ;  therefore  wc  must  construct  a  foundation  in  the  very  bowels 
of  the  bog  on  which  to  build  our  railway.  So  it  is  with  the  social 
difficulties  which  confront  us.  If  we  act  in  harmony  with  these  laws 
we  shall  triumph ;  but  if  we  ignore  them  they  will  overwhelm  us 
v/ith  destruction  and  cover  us  with  disgrace. 

But,  difficult  as  the  task  may  be,  it  is  not  one  which  we  can 
neglect.  When  Napoleon  was  compelled  to  retreat  under  circum- 
stances which  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  cairy  off  his  sick 
and  wounded,  he  ordered  his  doctors  to  poison  every  man  in  the 
hospital.  A  general  has  before  now  massacred  his  prisoners  rather 
than  allow  them  to  escape.  These  Lost  ones  are  the  Prisoners  of 
Society ;  they  are  the  Sick  and  Wounded  in  our  Hospitals.  What  a 
shriek  would  arise  from  the  civilised  world  -if  it  were  proposed  to 
administer  to-night  to  every  one  of  these  millions  such  a  dose  of 
morphine  that  they  would  sleep  to  wake  no  more.  But  so  far 
as  they  are  concerned,  would  it  not  be  much  less  cruel  thus 
to  end  their  life  than  to  allow  them  to  drag  on  day  after  day, 
year  after  year,  in  m.isery,  anguish,  and  despair,  driven  into  vice 
and  hunted  into  crime,  until  at  last  disease  harries  them  into  the 
grave  ? 

I  am  under  no  delusion  as  to  the  possibility  of  inaugurating  a 
millennium  by  my  Scheme;  but  the  triumphs  of  science  deal  so  much 
with  the  utilisation  of  waste  material,  that  I  do  not  despair  of  some- 
thing effectual  being  accomplished  in  the  utilisation  of  this  waste 
human  product.  The  refuse  which  was  a  drug  and  a  curse  to  our 
manufacturers,  when  treated  under  the  hands  of  the-  chemist,  has  been 
the  means  of  supplying  us  with  dyes  rivalling  in  loveliness  and 
variety  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  If  the  alchemy  of  science  caii 
extract  beautiful  colours  from  coal  ta?J^t9if{?6t  15ni1^''Mc 
enable  ttS'toevoIve  gladness  arid  bngKffiess  bSn^^tfie  agonised 
hearts  and  darkj  dreary,  loveless  lives' of 'th€Se'1Il^iftW  myriads  ? 
Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  in  God's  vs'btld  GbtPlTcKitSren  may  be 
able  to  do  somethingi  if  they  set  to  work  with  a  will,  to  carry  out  a 


TH^   KEY  TO   THE   ENIGMA. 


89 


w,  therefore 


)Ian  of  campaign  against  these  great  evils  which  are  the  nightmare 
lof  our  existence  ? 

The  remedy,  it  may  be,  is  simpler  than  some  imagine.    The  key 

Ito  the  enignid  may  lie  closer  to  our  hands  than  we  have  any  idea  of. 

■Many  devices  have  been  tried,  and  many  have  failed,  no  doubt ;  it  is 

[only  stubborn,  reckless  perseverance  that  can  hope  to  succeed  ;  it  is 

Iwell  that  we  recognise  this.     Ho*  ^  many  ages  did  men  try  to  make 

gunpowder  and  never  succeeded  ?    They  would  put  saltpetre  to 

charcoal,  or  charcoal  to  sulphur,  or  saltpetre  to  sulphur,  and  so 

were  ever  unable  to  make  the  compound  explode.    But  it  has  only  been 

discovered  within  the  last  few  hundred  years  that  all  three  were 

needed.     Before  that  gunpowder  was  a  mere  imagination,  a  phantasy 

of  the  alchemists.     How  easy  it  is  to  make  gunpowder,  now  the 

I  secret  of  its  manufacture  is  known  I 

But  take  a  simpler  illustration,  one  which  lies  even  within  the 
memory  of  some  that  read  these  pages.  From  the  beginning  of  the 
world  down  to  the  beginning  of  this  century,  mankind  had  not  found 
out,  with  all  its  striving  after  cheap  and  easy  transport,  the  miraculous 
difference  that  would  be  brought  about  by  laying  down  two  parallel 
lines  of  metal.  All  the  great  uien  and  tl  wise  men  of  the  past 
lived  and  died  oblivious  of  that  fact.  ^  he  greatest  mechanicians 
and  engineers  of  antiquity,  the  men  who  bridged  all  the  rivers  of 
Europe^  the  architects  who  built  the  cathedrals  which  are  still  the 
wonder  of  the  world,  failed  to  discern  what  seems  to  us  so  obviously 
simple  a  proposition,  that  two  parallel  lines  of  rail  would  diminish 
the  cost  and  difficulty  of  transport  to  a  minimum.  Without  that 
discovery  the  steam  engine,  which  has  itself  been  an  invention  of 
quite  recent  years,  would  have  failed  to  transform  civilisation. 

What  we  have  to  do  in  the  philanthropic  sphere  is  to  find  some- 
thing analogous  to  the  engineers'  parallel  bars.  This  discovery  I 
think  I  have  made,  and  hence  have  I  written  this  book. 


-  r  "'■  pi 


IV-r- 


I     i 


V 


SECTfow  2.— MY  SjCHEME 

What,  then,  is  my  Scheme  ?  It  is  a  very  simple  one,  although  in 
ils  ramifications  and  extensions  it  embraces  the  whole  world.  In 
this  book  I  profess  to  do  no  more  than  to  merely  outline,  as  plainlv 
and  as  simply  as  I  can,  the  fundamental  features  of  my  proposals. 
I  propose  to  devote  the  bulk  of  this  volume  to  setting  iorth  what  can 
practically  be  done  with  one  of  the  most  pressing  parts  of  the 
problem,  namely,  that  relating  to  those  who  are  out  of  work,  and 
vviio,  as  the  result,  are  more  or  less  destitute.  I  have  many  ideas  of  | 
what  might  be  done  with  those  who  are  at  present  cared  for  in  some 
measure  by  the  State,  but  I  will  leave  these  ideas  for  the  present. 

It  is  not  urgent  that  I  should  explain  how  our  Poor  Law  system 
could  be  reformed,  or  what  I  should  like  to  see  done  for  the  Lunatics 
in  AsyluHis,  or  the  Criminals  in  Gaols.  The  persons  who  are  pro- 
vded  for  by  the  State  we  will,  therefore,  for  the  moment,  leave 
CM'  G^  count.  The  indoor  paupers,  the  convicts,  the  inmates  ol 
the  lunatic  asylums  are  cared  for,  in  a  fashion,  already.  But, 
ov<2r  and  above  all  these,  there  exists  some  hundreds  of  thousands 
wiio  are  not  quartered  on  the  State,  but  who  are  living  on  the 
vsrge  of  despair,  and  who  at  any  moment,  under  circumstances  cf 
misfortune,  might  be  compelled  to  demand  relief  or  support  in  ono 
shape  or  another.  I  will  confine  myself,  therefore,  for  the  present 
to  those  who  have  no  helper. 

It  is  possible,  I  think  probable,  if  the  proposals  which  I  am  now 
putting  forward  are  carried  out  successfully  in  relation  to  the  lost, 
homeless,  and  helpless  of  the  population,  that  many  of  those  who 
are  at  the  present  moment  in  somewhat  better  circumstances  will 
demand  that  they  also  shall  be  allowed  to  partake  in  the  benefits  of 
the  Scheme.  But  upon  this,  also,  I  remain  silent.  I  merely  remari: 
that  we  have,  in  the  recognition  of  the  importance  of  discipline  and 
organisation,  v/hat  may  be  called  regimented  co-operation,  a 
principle  that  will  be  found  valuable  for  solving  maiy  social  prob- 


THE  OPEN   SECRET. 


91 


lems  other  than  that  of  destitution.  Of  these  plans,  which  are  at 
present  being  brooded  over  with  a  view  to  their  realisation  when 
the  time  is  propitious  and  the  opportunity  occurs,  I  shall  have 
f.omething  to  say. 

What  is  the  outward  and  visible  form  of  the  Problem  of  the 
Unemployed  ?  Alas  !  we  are  all  too  familiar  with  it  for  any  lengthy 
I'cscription  to  be  necessary.  The  social  problem  presents  itself 
i^cfore  U9  whenever  a  hungry,  dirty  and  ragged  man  stands  at  our 
door  asking  if  we  can  give  him  a  crust  or  a  job.  That  is  the  social 
question.  What  are  you  to  do  with  that  man  ?  He  has  no  money 
in  his  pocket,  all  that  he  can  pawn  he  has  pawned  long  ago,  his 
.'tomach  is  as  empty  as  his  purse,  and  the  whole  of  the  clothes  upon 
'.is  back,  even  if  sold  on  the  best  terms,  v/ould  not  fetch  a  shilling. 
There  he  stands,  your  brother,  with  sixpennyworth  of  rags  to  cover 
lis  nakedness  from  his  fellow  men  and  not  sixpennyworth  of 
victuals  within  his  reach.  He  asks  for  work,  which  he  v/ill  set  to 
even  on  his  empty  stomach  and  in  his  ragged  uniform,  if  so  be  that 
you  will  give  him  something  for  it,  but  his  hands  are  idle,  for  no  one 
employs  him.  What  are  you  to  do  with  that  man  ?  That  is  the 
great  'note  of  interrogation  that  confronts  Society  to-da3\  Not  only 
•  n  overcrowded  England,  but  in  newer  countrier>  beyond  the 
soa,  wliere  Society  has  not  yet  provided  a  means  by  which 
ihc  men  can  be  put  upon  the  land  and  the  land  be  made 
to  feed  the  men.  To  deal  with  this  man  is  the  Problem 
of  the  Unemployed.  To  deal  with  him  effectively  you  must 
deal  with  h'un  immediately,  you  must  provide  him  in  some  way  or 
other  at  once  v/iih  food,  and  shelter,  and  warmth.  Next  you  must 
find  him  something  to  do,  something  that  will  test  tb.e  reality  of  his 
desire  to  v;ork.  This  test  must  be  more  or  less  temporary,  and 
should  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to  prepare  him  for  making  a  permanent 
livelihood.  Then,  h.aving  trained  him,  you  must  provide  him  wliere- 
v.'ithal  to  start  life  afresh.  All  these  things  I  propose  to  do.  My 
Scheme  divides  itself  into  three  sections,  each  of  which  is  indis- 
pensable for  the  .success  of  the  whole.  In  this  three-fold  organisation 
lies  the  open  secret  of  the  solution  of  the  Social  Problem. 

The  Scheme  I  have  to  offer  consists  in  the  formation  of  tncse 
people  into  self-helping  and  self-sustaining  communities,  each  being 
a  kind  of  co-operative  society,  or  patriarchal  family,  governed  and 
disciplined  on  the  prirnciples  which  have  already  proved  so  effective 
ia  the  Salvation  j\rmy. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


/. 


^  .^% 


K^  <5?^% 


z 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


121   MIS 


■  50 


mkf 


m 


12.2 


I   us,    12.0 


1^ 

U    mil  1.6 


III 


<^ 


Va 


0% 


/A 


^'^ 
^ 


/. 


Photographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


23  win  MA!»;  :.UUr 

WIBSTiX.N.*  .  USSO 

(716;  •72-4S03 


fc 


^^7 


'    }1 


Mtff 


■^>  < 


l\\. 


naniB 


92 


MY  SCHEME. 

- 


These  communities  we  will  call,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  Colotuos. 
The-'c  will  be— 

(i)  The  City  Colony. 

(2)  The  Farm  Colony. 

(3)  The  Over-Sea  Colony. 

THE   CITY   COLONY. 

fiy  the  City  Colony  is  meant  the  establishment,  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  ocean  of  misery  of  which  we  have  been  speaking,  of  a 
number  of  Institutions  to  act  as  Harbours  of  Refuge  for  all  and  any 
who  have  been  shipwrecked  in  life,  character,  or  circumstances. 
These  Harbours  will  gather  up  the  poor  destitute  creatures,  supply 
their  immediate  pressing  necessities,  furnish  temporary  employment, 
inspire  them  with  hope  for  the  future,  and  commence  at  once  a  course 
of  regeneration  by  moral  and  religious  influences. 

From  these  Institutions,  which  are  hereafter  described,  numbers 
would,  after  a  short  time,  be  floated  off  to  permanent  employment,  or 
sent  home  to  friends  happy  to  receive  them  on  hearing  of  their 
reformation.  All  who  remain  on  our  hands  would,  by  varied  means, 
be  tested  as  to  their  sincerity,  industry,  and  honesty,  and  as  soon  as 
satisfaction  was  created,  be  passed  on  to  the  Colony  of  the  second 
class.  « 

THE  FARM  COLONY. 

This  would  consist  of  a  settlement  of  the  Colonists  on  an  estate  in 
the  provinces,  in  the  culture  of  which  they  would  find  employment 
and  obtain  support'.  As  the  race  from  the  Count^toAcCity  has 
been  the  cause  of  much  /rf-4he-;iJiStt  tt3r^j|!||^^^*]^^|ffi;  we 
propose  ie  find  a  imbstahtiat  part  of  our  leniedy^^  transferring  these 
same  pCtiple  back  to  the  country)' tKaltis'liarjla^  !" 

Here  the  process  of  reformation  of  character  wouldbe  carried  for- 
ward by  the  same  industrial,  moral,  and  religious  methods  as  have 
already  been  commenced  in  the  City,  especially  including  those  forhis 
of  labour  and  that  knowledge  of  agricultu;:e  which,  should  the 
Colonist  not  obtain  employment  in  this  country,  will  qualify  him  for 
pursuing  his  fortunes  under  more  favourable  circumstances  in  some 
other  land. 

From  the  Farm,  as  from  the  City,  there  t:an  be  no  question  that 
large  numbers,  resuscitated  in  health  and  character,  would  be  restored 
to  friends  up  and  down  the  country.  Some  would  find  employment 
in  Iheir  own  callings,  others  would  settle  in  cottages  on  a  small  piece 


vn 


T^  THREI-FOLD   COLONY. 


98 


■•y-.-'ip»' 


r^r- 


otUnd  that  we  should  pfoyi^?,  or  Qp^'Co^operaitive  Fan;ius  vrhjojfk  we 
iniftnd  to  promote )  whil^  th^  g^^t  bulk,  after  trial  and  training, 
Wt>uld  be  passed  on  to  the  Foreign  Settlement,  which  would  con- 
stitute our  third  class,  namely  The  Over-Sea  Colony. 

THE  OVER-SEA  COLONY. 

All  who  have  given  attention  to  the  subject  ire  agreed  that  in  our 
Colonies  in  South  Africa,  Canada,  Western  Australia  and  elsewhere, 
there  are  millions  of  acrei  of  useful  land  to  be  obtained  almost  for 
the  asking,  capable  of  supporting  our  surplus  population  in  health 
and  comfort,  were  it  a  thousand  times  greater  than  it  is.  We  pro- 
pose to  secure  a  tract  of  land  in  one  of  these  countries,  prepare  it 
for  settlement,  establish  in  it  authority,  govern  it  by  equitable  laws, 
assist  it  in  times  of  necessity,  settling  it  gradually  with  a  prepared 
people,  and  so  create  a  home  for  these  destitute  multitudes. 

The  Scheme,  in  its  entirety,  may  aptly  be  compared  to  A  Grfeat 
Machine,  foundationed  in  the  lowest  slums  and  purlieus  of  our  great 
towns  and  cities,  drawing  up  into  its  embrace  the  depraved  and  destitute 
of  all  classes ;  receiving  thieves,  harlots,  paupers,  drunkards,  prodigals, 
all  alike,  on  the  simple  conditions  of  their  being  willing  to  work  and 
to  confonn  to  discipline.  Drawing  up  these  poor  outcasts,  reforming 
them,  and  creating  iii  them  habits  of  industry,  honesty,  and  truth ; 
teaching  them  metho'ds  by  which  alike  the  bread  that  perishes  and 
that  which  endures  to  Everlasting  Life  can  be  won.  Forwarding 
them  from  the  City  to  the  Country,  and  there  continuing  the  process 
of  regeneration,  and  then  pouring  them  forth  on  to  the  virgin  soils 
that  await  their  coming  in  other  lands,  keeping  hold  of  them  with  a 
strong  government,  and  yet  making  them  free  men  and  women ;  and 
so  laying  the  foundations,  perchance,  of  another  Empire  to  swell  to 
vast  proportions  in  later  times.    Why  not  ? 


Ik 


■  ^'■■ 


:■-',• 


t  ■ 
i  ' 


! ,  /, 


wmmmmmmmi 


im 


•A- 


;'^ 


CHAPTER  IL 

ITOTHE  RESCUE  !-THE  CITY  COLONY. 

The  first  section  of  my  Scheme  is  the  establishment  of  a  Receiving 
House  for  the  Destitute  in  every  great  centre  of  population.  We 
start,  let  us'  remember,  from  the  individual,  the  ragged,  hungry, 
penniless  nian  who  confronts  us  with  despairing  demands  for  food, 
shelter,*  and  work.  Now,  I  have  had  some  two  or  three  years* 
experience  in  dealing  with  this  class.  I  believe,  at  the  present 
moment,  the  Salvation  Army  supplies  more  food  and  shelter  to  the 
destitute  than  any  other  organisation  in  London,  and  it  is  the  experi- 
ence and  encouragement  which  I  have  gained  in  the  working  of 
these  Food  and  Shelter  Depots  which  has  largely  encouraged  me  to 
propound  this  scheme. 

Section  i.— FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN. 

As  I  rode  through  Canada  and  the  United  States  some  three  years 
ago,  I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  superabundance  of  food  which 
I  saw  at  every  turn.  Oh,  how  I  longed  that  the  poor  starving 
people,  and  the  hungry  children  of  the  E^st  of  London  and  of 
other  centres  of  our  destitute  populations,  should  come  into  the 
midst  of  this  abundance,  but  as  it  appeared  impossible  foif  mc  to 
take  tbem  to  it,  I  secretly  resolved  that  I  would  endeavour  to  bring 
some  of  it  to  them.  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  I  have  already  been 
able  to  do  so  on  a  small  scale,  and  hope  to  accomplish  it  ere  long  crt 
a  much  vaster  one. 

With  this  view,  the  first  Cheap  Food  Depdt  was  opened  in  tne 
East  of  London  two  and  a  half  years  ago.  This  has  been  fol- 
lowed^ by  others,  and  we  have  now  three  establishments :  others  are 
being  arranged  for 

P  Since  the  commencement  in  1888,  we  have  supplied  over  three 
and  %^  half  million  meals. 

'    Some  idea  can  be  formed  of  the  extent  to  which  these  Food  and 
Shelter  I^pOts  have  already  struck  their  roots  into  the  strata  of 


1 


WHAT   HAS   BEEN    DONE   ALREADY. 


05 


Society  which  it  is  proposed  to  benefit,  by  the  following  figure*?, 
which  give  the  quantities  of  food  sold  during  the  year  at  our  Food 
Depdts. 


'!ft 


FOOD  SOLD  IN  DEPOTS  AND  SHELTERS  DURING  i88q. 


Article. 


Weight. 


•f 


Measnre. 

Soup 116,400  gaUons   ... 

Bread igzjtons 106,964  4lb.-lcave? 

Tea 2j   „     46,980  gallons   ,.. 

Coffee i..    iscwt 13-949 

Cocoa 6  tons    29,229 

Sugar 25   „  

Potatoes ; 140   

Flour... 18   „  

Peaflour 28^  „ 

Oatmeal 3I  „ 

Rice   12 

Beans 12 

Onions  and  parsnips  12 

Jam....' 9 

Mannalade 6 

Meat 15 

Milk : , 


Remarks, 


......... 


If   «. ....... 


ft   ..••••••• 


.    300  bags 
,.2,800    „ 
.    1 80  sacks 
.   288    „ 

.     36 
.    120 

.  240  H 
.  240  „ 
.2,880  jars 

.i.920    ft 


•* 


t> 


.4,300  quarts. 


This  includes  returns  from  three  Food  Depdts  and  five  Sheltersi.  I 
propose  to  multiply  their  number,  to  develop  their  usefulness,  and  to 
make  them  the  threshold  of  the  whole  Scheme.  Those  who  have  already 
visited  our  Depdts  will  understand  exactly  what  this  means.  The 
majority,  however,  of  the  readers  of  these  pages  have  not  done  so, 
and  for  them  it  is  necessary  to  explain  what  they  are. 
'.:  At  each  of  our  Dep6ts,  which  can  be  seen  by  anybody  that  cares  to 
take  the  trouble  to  visit  them,  there  are  two  departments,  one  dealing 
with  food,  the  other  with  shelter.  Of  these  both  are  worked  together 
and  minister  to  the  same  individuals.  Many  come  for  food  who  do 
not.  come  for  shelter,  although  most  of  those  who  come  for  shelter 
also  come  for  food,  which  is  sold  on  terms  to  cover,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  the  cost^pHiSeiind.vWorking  expenses  of  the  establishment. 
In  this  otir  Foo<Ji  Depots  differ  from  the  ordinary  soup  kitchens. 


'.u- 


l:t 


h. 


"sxam 


h  I 


86 FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN 

There  is  no  gratuitous  distribution  of  victuals.    The  following  is  our 
Price  List : — 


Scup 


WHAT   IS   SOLD   AT   THE  FOOD   DEP6tS. 

FOR  A  CHILD. 

I    • Per  Basin  \ 

•    •..    ...    V/ith  Bread  \ 


Coffee  or  Cocoa per  cup  \ 

„  „    With  Bread  and  Jam  -^ 


ooup  •••    •.«    •••  .  ... 

tf       *••    •««    •••    .«• 
Potatoes     

\..;«uo3go      ...     ...     ... 

Haricot  Beans    

Itclled  Jam  Pudding... 
„      Plum     „       ... 

I<.icc 
Baked  Flura 


FOR  ADULTS. 

a. 


Per  Basin  ^ 
With  Bread  i 

•••         •*•         •••     ^ 


d. 


II 


I 

.  ...      7^ 

X 

•  •••     U 

*  *  **     9 

Each  1 

.       ...    2 

.       ...    $ 


•*•       •*. 


•  ••    ^ 

...    ^ 


Baked  Jam  Roll 

Meat  Pudding  and  Potatoes 
Corned  Beef  „ 

M      Mutton        „ 

Cotiee per  cup,  \^ ;  per  mug  r 

Cocoa „        |d,  „        X 

7ea       ...    ...     ,,        ^d.  „        X 

Bread  &  Butler,  Jam,  or  Marmalade 

per  slice  \ 


Soup  in  own  Jugs,  id.  per  Quart. 
Ready  at  lo  a.m. 
A  certain  discretionary  power  is  vested  in  the  OfHcers  in  charge 

of  the  Dep6t,  and  they  can  in  very  urgent  cases  give  relief,  but  the 

i-ale  is  for  the  food  to  be  paid  for,  and  the  financial  results  shew 

liiat  working  expenses  are  just  about  covered. 

These  Cheap  Food  Depots  I  have  no  doubt  have  been  and  are  ot 
[i'.eat  service  to  numbers  of  hungry  starving  men,  women,  and 
children,  at  the  prices  just  named,  which  must  be  within  the 
reach  of  all,  except  the  absolutely  penniless ;  but  it  is  the  Shelter  that 
\  regaled  as  the  most  useful  feature  i»*  this  part  of  our  undertaking, 
for  \\  anything  is  to  be  done  to  get  hold  of  those  v/ho  use  the  Depdt, 
tome  more  favourable  opportunity  must  be  afforded  than  is  offered 
by  the  mere  coming  into  the  food  store  to  get,  perhaps,  only  a  basin 
of  soup.  This  part  of  the  Scheme  I  propose  to  extend  very 
cottsiderably. 

Suppose  that  you  arc  a  casual  in  the  streets  of  London,  homeless, 
friendless,  weary  with  looking  for  work  all  day  and  finding  none. 
Night  comes  on.  Where  are  you  to  go  ?  You  have  perhaps  only 
a  few  coppers,  or  it  may  be,  a  few  shillings,  left  of  the  rapidly 
dwindling  store  of  your  little  capital.  You  shrink  from  sleeping  in 
the  open  air ;  you  equally  shrink  from  going  to  the  fourpenny  Doss- 
house  where,  ii.  the  midst  of  strange  and  ribald  company,  you  may 
he  robbed  ot  the  remnant  of  the  money  still  in  your  possession. 
While  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  do,  someone  who  sees  you  suggests 


W 


m 


}wtng  IS  our 


AT   A*"  SHELTER    DEPOT.  M7 

^hat  you  should  go  to  our  Shelter.    You  cannot,  of  cou^,  i^*^  iHe 
!;asual  Ward  of  the  Workhouse  as  long  as  you  have  any  money  in 
irour  possession.     You  come  along  to  one  of  our  Shefters.     On 
jntering  you  pay  fourpence,  and  are  free  of  the  establishment  for 
^he  night.      You  can  come  in  early  or  late.     The  company  begins  to 
assemble  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.      In  the  women's 
shelter  you   find   that  many  come  much  earlier  and  sit  sewing, 
reading  or'  chatting  m  the  s  ,    ely  furnished  but  well  warmed  "oom 
om  the  early  hours  of  the  afternoon  until  bedtime. 
You  come  in,  and  you  get  a  large  pot  of  coffee,  tea,  or  cocoa,  and 
la  hunk  of  bread.     You  can  go  into  the  wash-house,  where  you  can 
|have  a  wash  with  plenty  of  warm  water,  and  soap  and  towels  free. 
Then   after  having   washed    and    eaten  you    can  make    yourself 
Comfortable.     You  can  write  letters  to  your  friends,  if  you  have  any 
Ifriends  to  write  to,  or  you  can  read,  or  you  can  sit  quietly  and  do 
Inothing.     At  eight  o'clock  the  Shelter  is  tolerably  full,  and  then 
Ibegins  what  we  consider  to  «be  the  indispensable  feature  of  the 
Iwhole  concern.     Two  or  three  hundred  men  in  the  men's  Shelter,  or 
las  many  women  in  the  women's  Shelter,  are  collected  together,  most 
laf  them  strange  to  each  other,  in  a  large  room.  They  are  all  wretchedly 
(poor — what  are  you  to  do  with  them  ?    This  is  what  we  do  with  them. 
We  hold  a  rousing  Salvation  meeting.     The  Officer  in  charge  of 
;he  Dep6t,  ass:  "ted  by  detachments  from  the  Training  Homes,  con- 
Ijucts  a  jovial  free-and-easy  social  evening     The  girls  have  their 
banjos  and  their  tamb  urines,  and  for  a  couple  of  hours  you  have 
as  lively  a  meeting  as  you  will  find  in  Lon  ion.     There  is  prayer, 
[short  and  to  the  point;  there  are  cadvesses,  some  delivered  by  the 
eaders  of  the  meeting,  but  the  most  oi  tren  the  testimonies  of  those 
Arho  have  been  saved  at  previous  meetings,  and  who.  rising  in  their 
[seats,  tell  their  companions  their  experiences.     Strange  experiences 
they  often  are  of  those     ho  have  been  dowrf  »n  the  very  bottomless 
depths  of  sin  and  vice  and  misery,  but  who  have  found  at  last  firm 
footing  on  which  to  stand,  and  who  are,  as  they  say  in  all  sincerity, 
"  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long."    There  is  a  joviality  and  a  genuine 
good  feeling  at  some  of  these  meetings  which  is  refreshing  to  the 
soul.     There   are   all  sorts   and  conditions  of  men  ;  ciasuals,  gaol 
birds,  Out-of- Works,  who  have  come  there  for  the  first  time,  and  who 
find  men  who  last  week  or  last  month  were  even  as  they  themselves 
I  are  now — still  poor  *^ut  rejoicing  in  a  sense  of  brotherhood  and  a 
Gonsciousnoss  of  th^ir  being  no  longer  outcasts  and  forlorn  in  thiSi 


I  ■; 


m 


98 


FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY,  MAN 


*^' 


.'*•••*  V  *  •'••' , 


wide  world.  There  are  men  who  have  at  last  seen 'reviver- before 
them  a  hope  of  escaping  from  that  dreadful  vortex,  into  which  their 
sins  and  misfortunes  had  drawn  them,  and  being  restored  to  those 
comforts  that  they  had  feared  so  long  were  gone  for  ever;  nay, 
of  rising  to  live  a  true  and  Godly  life.  •  These  tell  their  mates  how 
this  has  come  about,  and  urge  all  who  hear  them  to  try  for 
themselves  and  see  whether  it  is  not  a  good  and  happy  thing 
to  be  soundly  saved.  In  the  intervals  of  testimony — and  these 
testimonies,  as  every  one  will  bear  me  witness  who  has  ever  attended 
any  of  our  meetings,  are  not  long,  sanctimonious  lackadaisical 
speeches,  but  simple  confessions  of  individual  experience — there  are 
bursts  of  hearty  melody.  The  conductor  of  the  meeting  will  start 
up  a  verse  or  two  of  a  hymn  illustrative  of  the  experiences  mentioned 
by  the  last  speaker,  or  one  of  the  girls  from  the  Training  Home  will 
sing  a  solo,  accompanying  herself  on  her  instrument,  while  all  join 
in  a  rattling  and  rollicking  chorus. 

There  is  no  compulsion  upon  anyone  of  our  dossers  to  take  part 
in  this  meeting ;  they  do  not  need  to  come  in  until  it  is  over ;  but  as 
a  simple  matter  of  fact  they  do  come  in.  Any  night  between  eight 
and  ten  o'clock  you  will  find  these  people  sitting  there,  listening  to 
the  exhortations  and  taking  part  in  the  singing,  many  of  them,  no 
doubt,  unsympathetic  enough,  but  nevertheless  preferring  to  be  presem 
with -the  music  and  the  wa  .nth,  mildly  stirred,  if  only  by  curiosity, 
as  the  various  testimonies  are  delivered. 

Sometimes  these  testimonies  are  enough  to  rouse  the  most  cynical 
of  observers.  We  had  at  one  of  our  shelters  the  captain  of  an 
ocean  steamer,  who  had  sunk  to  the  depths  of  destitution  through 
strong  drink.  He  came  in  there  one  night  utterly  desperate  and  was 
taken  in  hand  by  our  people — and  with  us  taking  in  hand  is  no  mere 
phrase,  for  at  the  close  of  our  meetings  our  officers  go  from  seat  to 
s^at,  and  if  they  see  anyone  who  shows  signs  of  being  affected  by  the 
speeches  or  the  singing,  at  once  sit  down  beside  him  and  begin  to 
labour  with  him  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  By  this  means  they 
are  able  to  get  hold  of  the  men  and  to  know  exactly  where  the 
difficulty  lies,  what  the  trouble  is,  and  if  they  do  nothing  else,  at  least 
succeed  in  convincing  thein  that  there  is  someone  who  cares  for  their 
soul  and  would  do  what  he  could  to  lend  them  a  helping  hand. 

The  captain  of  whom  I  was  speaking  was  got  hold  of  in  this  way. 
He  was  deeply  impressed,  and  was  induced  to  abandon  once  and  for 
alL  his.  habits..Q{„  intemperance.    From  that_meeting  he  went  an 


reviver- beforcl 

0  which  theirl 
>red  to  those 
vc  ever;  nay.l 
r  mates  howl 

to  try  fori 
happy  thing 
r — and  these 
ever  attended 
lackadaisical 
:e — there  are 
ng  will  start 
es  mentioned  [ 
ig  Home  will 
vhile  all  join 

to  take  part 
over;  but  as 
etween  eight  I 
,  listening  to 
r  of  them,  no 
;  to  be  presem 
by  curiosity, 

most  cynical 
aptain  of  an 
ition  through 
irate  and  was 
id  is  no  mere 
>  from  seat  to 
ITected  by  the 

and  begin  to 
s  means  they 
y  where  the 
:  else,  at  least 
ares  for  their 

1  hand. 
'  in  this  way.  I 
once  and  fori 
he  went  an 


HE  SALVATION    DOSS   HOUSE: 


09 


altered  man.  He  regained  his  position  in  the  merchant  service,  and 
twelve  months  afterwards  astonished  us  all  by  appearing  In  the 
uniform  of  a  captain  of  a  Idrge  ocean  steamer,  to  testify  to  those 
who  were  there  how  low  he  had  been,  how  utterly  he  had  lost  all 
hold  on  Societ}^  and  all  hope  of  the  future,  when,  fortunately  led  to 
the  Shelter,  he  found  friends,  counsel,  and  salvation,  and  from  that 
time  had  never  rested  until  he  had  regained  the  position  which  he 
had  forfeited  by  his  intemperance. 

The  meeting  over,  the  singing  girls  go  back  to  the  Training  Home, 
and  the  men  prepare  for  bed.     Our  sleeping  arrangements  are 
somewhat  primitive  ;  we  do  not  provide  feather  beds,  and  when  you 
go  into  our  dormitories,  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  the  floor 
covered  by  what  look  like  an  endless  array  of  packing  cases.    Thess 
are  our  beds,  and  each  of  them  forms  a  cubicle.    There  is  a  mattress 
laid  on  the  floor,  and  over  the  mattress  a  leather  apron,  which  is  all 
the   bedclothes  that  we  find  it  possible  to  provide.      The  men 
undress,  each  by  the  side  of  his  packing  box,  and  go  to  sleep  under 
their  leather  covering.     The  dormitory  is  warmed  with  hot  water 
pipes  to  a  te;mperature  of  60  degrees,  and  there  has  never  been  any 
complaint  of  lack  of  Wcirmth  on  the  part  of  those  who  use  the 
Shelter.      The    leather   can    be    kept    perfectly  clean,    and    the 
mattresses,   covered  with  American  cloth,   are  carefully  inspected 
every    day,    so     that     no    stray    specimen    of   vermin    may    \x. 
left  in  the  place.     The  men  turn  in  about  ten  o'clock  and  sleep 
until  six.     We  have  never  any  disturbances  of  any  kind  in  the 
Shelters.      We    have    provided    accommodation  '  now  for  several 
thousand    of   the    most  helplessly  broken-down  men  in  London, 
criminals  many  of  them,  mendicants,  tramps,  those  who  are  among 
the  filth  and  ofTscouring  of  all  things;  but  such  is  the  iniluence 
that  is  established  by  the  meeting    and.  the    moraH ascendancy 
of     our     officers     themselves,     that     we    have    never    had    a 
fight    on    the    premises,    and   very    seldom    do    we    ever    hear 
an   oath    or    an    obscene    word.      Sometimes    there    has    been 
trouble  outside  the  Shelter,  when  men  insisted  upon  coming  in 
drunk  or  were    otherwise  violent ;  but  once  let   them  come   to 
the  Shdter,   and  get  into  the   swing  of   the    concern,  and    we 
have  no  trouble  with  them.     In  the  morning  they  get  up  and  have 
their  breakfast  and,  after  a  short  service,  go  off  their  various  ways. 

We  find  that  we  can  do  this,  that  is  to  say,  we  can  provide  coffee. 
and  bread  for  breakfa3t  and  for  supper,  and  a  shake-down  on  the 


'    i 


'il 


H 


100 


FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN. 


floor  in  the  packing-boxes  I  have  described  in  a  warm  dormitory 
for  fourpence  a  head. 

I  propose  to  develop  these  Shelters,  so  as  to  afTord  every  man 
a  locker,  in  which  he  could  store  any  little  valuables  that  he 
may  possess.  I  would  also  allow  him  the  use  of  a  boiler  in 
the  washhouse  with  a  hot  drying  oven,  so  that  he  could  wash  his 
shirt  over  night  and  have  it  returned  to  him  dry  in  the  morning. 
Only  those  who  have  had  practical  experience  of  the  difficulty  of 
seeking  for  work  in  London  can  appreciate  the  advantages  of 
the  opportunity  to  get  your  shirt  washed  in  this  way— if 
you  have  one.  In  Trafalgar  Square,  in  1887,  there  wercJ 
few  things  that  scandalised  the  public  more  than  the 
spectacle  of  the  poor  people  camped  in  the  Square,  washing  their 
shirts  in  the  early  morning  at  the  fountains.  If  you  talk  to  any  men 
who  have  been  on  the  road  for  a  lengthened  period  they  will  tell 
you  that  nothing  hurts  their  self-respect  more  or  stands  more  fatally 
in  the  way  of  their  getting  a  job  than  the  impossibility  of  getting^ 
their  little  things  ^one  up  and  clean. 

In  our  poor  man's  "Home"  everyone  could  at  least  keep  himself 
clean  and  have  a  clean  shirt  to  his  back,  in  a  plain  way,  no  doubt ; 
but  still  not  le^^  ^^ective  than  if  he  were  to  be  put  up  at  one  of  the 
West  End  hoi.  nd  would  be  able  to  secure  anyway  the  neces- 
saries of  life  whue  being  passed  on  to  something  far  better.  This  is 
the  first  step. 

SOME  SHELTER  TROPHIES. 

Or  the  practical  results  which  have  followed  our  methods  of  deal- 
ing with  the  outcasts  who  take  shelter  with  us  we  have  many  striking 
examples.  Here  are  a  few,  each  of  them  a  transcript  of  a  life 
experience  relating  to  men  who  are  now  active,  industrious  members 
of  the  community  upon  which  but  for  the  agency  of  these  Dep6ts  they 
would  have  been  preying  to  this  day. 

A.  S.— Born  in  Glasgow,  1825.  Saved  at  Clerkenwell,  May  19,  1889.  Pool 
parents  raised  in  a  Glasgow  Slum.  Was  thrown  on  the  streets  at  seven  yean* 
or  age,  became  the  companion  and  associate  g(  thieves,  and  drifted  into  crime. 
The  following  are  his  terms  of  imprisonment : — 14  days,  30  days,  30  days,  60 
days,  60  days  (three  times  in  succession),  4  months,  6  months  (twice),  9  months, 
18  months,  2  years,  6  years,  7  years  (tMrice),  14  years ;  40  years  3  months  and  ^ 
days  in  the  aggregate.    Was  flogged  for  violent  conduct  in  gaol  8  times. 

W.  M.  ("Buff").— Born  in  Deptford,  1864,  saved  at  Clerkenwell,  Mareb 
3Mt,  1889.^  His  ^father  was  an  old  Navy  man,  and  earned  a  decent  living 


^m 


SOME   SHELTER   TROPHIES/ 


l«)1 


I  dormitory 

every  man 
es  that  he 
a  boiler  in 
d  wash  his 
morning, 
difficulty  of 
rantages  of 
is  way~-»f 
here    were 

than  the 
eishing  their 
to  any  men 
liey  will  tell 
nore  fatally 

of  getting^ 

eep  himselif 
,  no  doubt ; 
t  one  of  the 
•.he  neces- 
er.    This  is 


ods  of  deal- 
any  striking 
pt  of  a  lifo 
us  members 
Depots  they 

,  1889.  Pool 
It  seven  yean* 
id  into  crime. 
,  30  days,  60 
ce),  9  months, 
months  and  ^ 
times. 

nwell,  March 
decent  living 


lasmajiager.  Was  sober,  respectable,  and  trustworthy.  Mother  was  a  dis* 
reputable  drunken  slattern :  a  curse  and  disgrace  to  husband  and  family.  The 
home  was  broken  up,  and  little  Buff  was  given  over  to  the  evil  influences  of  his 

1  depraved  mother.  His  7th  birthday  present  from  his  admiring  parent  was  a 
"  quarten  o'  gin."  He  got  some  education  at  the  One  Tun  Alley  Ragged  School, 
but  when  nine  years  old  was  caught  apple  stealing,  and  sent  to  the  Industrial 
School  at  Ilford  for  7  years.  Discharged  at  the  end  of  his  term,  he  drifted  to 
the  streets,  the  casual  wards,  and  Metropolitan  gaols,  every  one  of  whose 
interiors  he  is  familiar  with.  He  became  a  ringleader  of  a  gang  that  infested 
London ;  a  thorough  mendicant  and  ne'er-do-well ;  a  pest  to  society.  Naturally 
he  is'  a  bom  leader,  ana  one  o\  rhose  spirits  that  command  a  following ;  conse- 
quently, when  he  got  Salvation,  the  major  part  of  his  following  came  after  hfm 
to  the  Shelter,  and  eventually  to  God.  His  character  since  conversion  has  been 
altogether  satisfactory,  and  he  is  now  an  Orderly  at  Whitechapel,  and  to  all 
appearances  a  "  true  lad." 

C.  W.  ("  Frisco ").— Bom  in  San  Francisco,  1862.  Saved  April  24th, 
1889.  Taken  away  from  home  at  the  age  of  eight  years,  and  made  his  way  tu 
Texas.  Here  he  took  up  life  amongst  the  Ranches  as  a  Cowboy,  and  varied  if 
with  occasional  trips  to  sea,  developing  into  a  typical  brass  and  rowdy.    He  had 

2  years  for  mutiny  at  sea,  4  years  for  mule  stealing,  5  years  for  cattle  stealing, 
and  has  altogether  been  in  gaol  for  thirteen  years  and  eleven  months.  He  came 
over  to  England,  got  mixed  up  with  thieves  and  casuals  here,  and  did  several 
short  terms  of  imprisonment.  He  was  met  on  his  release  at  Millbank  by  an  old 
chum  (Buff)  and  the  Shelter  Captain  ;  came  to  Shelter,  got  saved,  and  has  stood 
firm.^  • 

H.'a. — Bora  at  Deptford,  1850.  Saved  at  Clerkenwell,  January  12th, 
1889.  Lost  mother  in  early  life,  step-mother  difficulty  supervening,  and  a 
propensity  to  misappropriation  of  small  things  developed  into  thieving.  He 
followed  the  sea,  became  a  hard  drinker,  a  foul-mouthed  blasphemer,  and,  a 
blatant  spouter  of  infidelity.  He  drifted  about  for  years,  ashore  and  afloat, 
and  eventually  reached  the  Shelter  stranded.  Here  he  sought  God,  and  has 
done  well.  This  summer  he  had  charge  of  a  gang  of  hajrmakers  sent  into 
the  countty,  and.  stood  the  ordeal  satisfactorily.  He  seems  honest  Jn  his 
profession,  ^and^strives  patiently  to  follow  after  God.  He  is  at  the 
workshops. 

H.    S.— Bora^iat  A ,  in  Scotland.      Like  most  Scotch  lads    although 

parents  were  in  poor  circumstances  he  managed  to  get  a  good  education. 
Early  ih  life  he  took  to  newspaper  work,  and  picked  up  the  details  of  the 
jottraalistiti  ptofession  in  several  prominent  papers  in  N.B.  Eventually  he  got 
a  position  on  a  provincial  newspaper,  and  having  put  in  a  course  at  Glasgpw 
Umversity,  giaduated^B.A.^there. :.  After  this ^he  .was ^ on  the. staff  of  % 


102 


FOOD  AND  aHELTER  TOR  EVERY  MAN. 


Welsh  paper.  He  married  n  decent  girl,  and  had  several  little  onea,  but 
giving  way  to  drink,  lost  position,  wife,  family,  and  friends.  At  times 
he  would  struggle  up  and  recover  himself,  and  appears  generally  to  have 
been  able  to  lecure  a  position,  but  again  and  again  his  besetment  overcame 
him,  and  each  time  he  would  drift  lower  and  lower.  For  a  time  he  was  engaged 
in  secretarial  work  on  a  prominent  London  Charity,  but  fell  repeatedly,  and  at 
length  was  dismissed.  He  came  to  us  an  utter  outcast,  was  sent  to  Shelter  and 
Workshop  got  saved,  and  is  now  in  a  good  situation.  He  gives  every  promise, 
and  those  best  able  to  judge  seem  very  sanguine  that  at  last  a  real  good  work 
baa  been  accomplished  m  him. 

F.  D. — Was  bom  in  London,  and  brought  up  to  the  iron  trade.  Held  several 
good  situations,  losing  one  after  another,  from  drink  and  irregularity.  On  one 
occasion,  with  £10  in  his  pocket,  he  started  for  Manchester,  got  drunk  there,  was 
locked  up  and  fined  five  shillings,  and  fifteen  shillings  costs ;  this  he  paid,  and  as 
he  was  leaving  the  Court,  a  gentleman  stopped  him,  saying  that  he  knew  his  father, 
and  inviting  him  to  his  house ;  however,  with  ;^io  in  his  pocket,  he  was  too 
independent,  and  he  declined ;  but  the  gentleman  gave  him  his  address,  and 
left  him.  A  few  days  squandered  his  cash,  and  clothes  soon  followed,  all  dis 
appearing  for  drink,  and  then  without  a  coin  lie  presented  himself  at  the 
address  given  to  him,  at  ten  o'clock  at  night  It  turned  out  to  be  his  uncle,  who 
gave  him  £fl  to  go  back  to  London,  but  this  too  disappeared  for  liquor.  He 
tramped  back  to  London  utterly  destitute.  Several  nights  were  passed  on  the 
Embankment,  and  on  one  occasion  a  gentleman  gave  him  a  ticket  for  the 
Shelter ;  this,  however,  he  sold  for  2d.  and  had  a  pint  of  beer,  and  stopped  out 
all  night  But  it  set  him  thinking,  and  he  det^mined  next  day  to  raise  4d.  and 
see  what  a  Shelter  was  like.  He  came  to  Whitechapel,  became  a  regular  cus- 
tomer, eight  months  ago  got  saved,  and  is  now  doing  well. 

F.  H.— Was  bom  at  Birmingham,  1858.    Saved    at    Whitechapel,    March 

26th,    1890.   ^  Father  died   in    his  infancy,    mother    marrymg    again.      The 

stepfather  was  a  drunken  navvy,  and  used  to  knock  the  mother  about,  and  *he 

lad  was  left  to  the  streets.    At  12  years  of  age  he  left  home,  and  tramped  to 

Liverpool,  begging  his  way,  and  sleeping  on  the  roadsides.    In  Liverpool  he 

lived  about  the  Docks  for  some  days,  sleeping  where  he  could.    Police  found 

him  and  returned  him  to  Birmingham ;   his  reception  being   an  unmerciful 

thrashing  from  the  dranken  stepfather.    He  got  several  jobs  as  errand-lx>y, 

remarkable  for  his  secret  pilferings,  and  two  years  later  left  with  fifty  shillings 

stolen  money,  and  reached  Middlesbrough  by  road.    Got  work  in  a  nail  factory, 

stayed  nine  months,  then  stole  nine  shillings  from  fellow-lodger,  and  again 

took  the  road,    He  reached  Birmingham,  and  finding  a  warrant  out  for  him, 

joined  the   Navy.'  He    was  in  the   Impregnable   training-ship  three  years, 

tMhavedj^himself,  j^only  i^^etting    "  one    dozen,'*_  and  vras    transferred  with 


I 


iracter 
dripk 
lost    e 
eral   t 
V  gaol 
ces 
in  th 
ed  hi: 
led  his 
rkct,  bi 
led  do 
ne.    E\ 
ustwort 
ice  him, 

.  W.  s.. 
is  busii 
into  evi 
iking;  1 
iter,  am 
clothes 
:wisha 
nising  i 

T.— B< 

ly  in  lii 

Was 

led  a 
1  passe 
:  unemj 
k.  He 
dition ; 
it  a  mar 
:,  he  go 
sent  he 
iience  ir 

S.-B 
:ving  p 
ind  out 
over  the 
last  ter 
rriod  a  r< 
iracter 


1'    \ 


SOME   SHELTER   TROPHIES. 


103 


aracter  marked  "  good "  to  the  Iron  Dukt  in  the  '  China  seas ;  soon 
drinking,  and  was  locked  up  and  imprisoned  for  riotous  conduct  in 
nost  every  port  in  the  stations.  ■•:  He  broke  ship,  and  deserted 
jreral   times,  and  was    a  thorough  specimen  of  a  bad  BritisI)  tar.      He 

gaol  in  Signapore,  Hong  Kong,  Yokohama,  Shanghai,  Canton,  and  other 
Ices.    In  five  years  returned  home,  and,  after  furlough,  joined  the  Belli 

in  the  Irish  station.  Whisky  here  again  got  hold  of  him,  and  excess 
led  his  constitution.  On  his  leave  he  had  married,  and  on  his  discharge 
lied  his  wife  in  Dinningham.  For  some  time  he  worked  as  sweeper  in  the 
Irket,  but  two  years  ago  deserted  his  wife  and  family,  and  came  to  London, 
)led  down  to  a  loafer's  life,  lived  on  the  streets  with  Casual  Wards  for  his 
ie.  Eventually  came  to  Whitechapcl  Shelter,  and  got  saved.  He  is  now 
lustworthy,  reliable  lad ;  has  become  reconciled  to  wife,  who  came  to  London 
fee  him,  and  he  bids  fair  lo  be  a  useful  man. 

W.  S. — Bom  in  Plymouth.  His  parents  are  respectable  people.  He  is  rl#>ver 
[lis  business,  and  has  held  good  situations.  Two  years  ago  he  came  to  London, 
into  evil  courses,  and  took  to  drink.  Lost  situation  lifter  situation,  and  kept  on 
liking ;  lost  everything,  and  came  to  the  streets.  He  found  out  Westminster 
[iter,  and  eventually  got  saved  \  his  parents  were  communicated  with,  and  help 
I  clothes  forthcoming ;  with  Salvation  came  hope  and  energy  ;  he  got  a  situation 

:vvi!>ham  (7d.  per  hour)  at  his  trade.    Four  months  standing,  and  is  a 

lising  Soldier  as  well  as  a  respectable  mechanic. 

T. — Born  in  Ireland  ;  well  educated  (commercially) ;  clerk  and  accountant. 
|ly  in  life  joined  the  Queen's  Army,  and  by  good  conduct  worked  his  way 
Was  orderly-room  clerk  and  paymaster'^  assistant  in  his  regiment, 
led  a  steady  life  whilst  in  the  service,  and  at  the  expiration  of  his 
passed  into  the  Reserve  with  a  "  very  good  "  character.  He  was  a  long 
unemployed,  and  this  appears  to  have  reduced  him  to  despair,  and  so  to 
kk.  He  sank  to  the  lowest  ebb,  and  came  to  Westminster  in  a  deplorable 
lition;  coatless,  hatless,  shirtless,  dirty  altogether,  a  fearful  specimen  ot 
|it  a  man  of  good  parentage  can  be  brought  to.  After  being  at  Shelter  some 
e,  he  got  saved,  was  passed  to  Workshops,  and  gave  great  satisfaction.  At 
sent  he  is  doing  clerical  work  and  gives  satisfaction  as  a  workman :  a  good 
jence  in  the-place. 

S. — Born  in  London,  of  decent  parentage.   .  FromT«^child  he  exhibited 

lying    propensities:    soon  got    into    the    hands ^ of  the fpolice,    and   was 

|nd  out  of  gaol  continually.    He  led  the  life  of  a  confirmed  tramp,  and  roved 

over  the  United  Kingdom.    He  has  been  in  penal  servitude -three  times,  and 

last  term  wa&  for  seven  years,  with  police  supervision.^A|^ter^his  relt^ase  he 

riod  a  respectable  girl,  and  tried  to  reform,  but  circumstances  were  ^'gaioft  hiljg;; 

[racter  he  bad.jione,a4;«QLGareer_only^tQ..rccDiiiaeadlJbiiikiiLndjHJLjie.tfttd 


'    I. 

, '  .pi 

> 


!    • 


I 


104 


rUOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN. 


his  wife  eventually  drifted  to  destitution.  They  came  to  the  Shelter,  and  askrJ 
advice  ;  they  were  received,  and  he  made  application  to  the  sitting  Magistrate  al 
Clerkenwell  as  to  a  situation,  and  what  he  ought  to  do.  The  Magistratl 
helped  him,  and  thanlceu  the  Salvation  Army  for  its  efforts  in  behalf  of  him  anil 
such  as  he,  and  asked  us  to  look  after  the  applicant  A  little  work  was  givcj 
him,  and  after  a  time  a  good  situation  pro^nircd.  To-day  they  have  a  goo 
time ;  he  is  steadily  employed,  and  both  arc  serving  God,  holding  the  respeci 
and  confidence  of  neighbours,  etc. 

E.  G. — Came  to  England  in  the  service  of  a  family  of  position,  ani 
afterwards  was  butler  and  upper  servant  in  several  houses  of  the  nobility.  Hi 
health  broke  down,  and  for  a  long  time  he  was  altogether  unfit  for  work, 
had  saved  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  but  the  cost  of  doctors  and  the  nece^ 
sarics  of  a  sick  man  soon  played  havoc  with  his  little  store,  and  he  becar 
reduced  to  penury  and  absolute  want.  For  some  time  he  was  in  the  WorkhousJ 
and,  being  discharged,  he  was  advised  to  go  to  the  Shelter.  He  was  low  i 
health  as  well  as  in  circumstances,  and  broken  in  spirit,  almost  despairing, 
was  lovingly  advised  to  cast  his  care  upon  God,  and  eventually  he  was  coi| 
verted.  After  some  time  work  was  obtained  as  porter  in  a  City  warehous 
Assiduity  and  faithfulness  in  a  year  raised  him  to  the  position  of  traveller.  Tj 
day  he  prospers  in  body  and  soul,  rctaiiy,ng  the  respect  and  confidence  of 

associated  with  him. 

'» 

We  might  multiply  these  records,  but  those  given  show  the  kiiij 
of  results  attained. 

There's  no  reason  to  think  that  influences  which  have  bcc 
blessed  of  God  to  the  salvation  of  these  poor  fellows  will  not 
equally  efficacious  if  applied  on  a  wider  scale  and  over  a  vastd 
area.  The  thing  to  be  noted  in  all  these  cases  is  that  it  was  not  tlj 
mere  feeding  which  effected  the  result ;  it  was  the  combination  of  til 
feeding  with  the  personal  labour  for  the  individual  soul.  Still,  if  \^ 
had  not  fed  them,  we  should  never  have  come  near  enough  to  gal 
any  hold  upon  their  hearts.  If  we  had  merely  fed  them,  they  woul 
have  gone  away  next  day  to  resume,  with  increased  energy,  tl| 
predatory  and  vagrant  life  which  they  had  been  leading.  Hut  whe 
our  feeding  and  Shelter  Depdts  brought  them  to  close  quarters,  oi| 
officers  were  literally  able  to  put  their  arms  round  their  necks  an 
plead  with  them  as  brethren  who  had  gone  astray.  We  told  thd 
that  their  sins  and  sorrows  had  not  shut  them  out  from  the  love  of  tn 
Everlasting  Father,  who  had  sent  us  to  them  to  help  them  with  all  tlj 
power  of  our  strong  Organisation,  of  the  Divine  authority  of  which 
never  feel  so  sure  as  when  it  is  going  forth  to  seek  and  to^sayejthejos 


im 


Section  2.— WORK  FOR  THE  OUT-OF-WORKS.-THE  FACTORY.) 


The  foregoing,  it  will  be  §aid,,is  all. very^^wc^iifoi^^yQur  outcast  when 
lie  has  got  fourpence  in  his:fpockcti;' but  i;yiiat;^Jf^he.^^h  got  his 

fourpence  ?.  f^iWliat  if  you  are  confrbnted  with., a^,c:rowdi!pf^un^ 
desperate  wfdtches,  without  even  a  penny  in  their  pouch,  demanding 
food  and  shelter?  -This  objection  is  natural  enough,  and  has  'been 
duly  considered  from  the  first. 

I  propose  to  establish  in  connection  with  every  Food" and" Sheltec 
Depot  a  Workshop  or  Labour  Yard,  in  which  any  person  wh6  comes 
destitute  and  starving  will  be  supplied  with  sufiicient  work;to  enable 
liim  to  earn  the  fourpence  needed  for  his  bed  and  board,  rf; This -is  a 
fundamental  feature  of  the  Scheme,  and  one  which  I  think  will 
commend  it  to  all  those  who  are  anxious  to  benefit  the  poor  by 
enabling  them  to  help  themselves  without  the  demoralising  interven- 
tion of  charitable  relief. 

Let  us  take  our  stand  for  a  moment  at  the  door  of  one  of  our 
Shelters.  There  comes  along  a  grimy,  ragged,  footsore  tramp,  his 
feet  bursting  out  from  the  sides  of  his  slices,  his  clothes  all  rags, 
with  filthy  shirt  and  towselled  hair.  He  has  been,  he  tells  you,;on 
the  tramp  for  the  last  three  weeks,  seeking  work  and  finding  npne, 
slepi  last  night  on  the  Embankment,  and  wants  to  kijpw  if  jrouVpan 
give  him  a  bite  and  a  sup,  and  shelter  for  the  night.  •  Has  he  any 
money  ?  Not  he  ;  he  probably  spent  the^  last  penny  he  begged 'or 
earned  in  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  with  which  to  dull  the  crav'iigs  of  his 
Iiungry  stomach?^  ^Whafare  ycjn  to  do  with  this  man?. 

Remember^tlTis;';iscl.np^,  fancy  s)cetch»— it  is  a  typical  case.  .There 
are  hundreds,  and5'thousauds  of  such  applicants.  ^  Any  one  who  j's' 
at  all  familiar  with  Kfe.inliLondon  arid. ouriother  large  towns,  will 
recognise  thatj.  gauntr  figure,  standing ^here. tasking,  for  bread  and 
shelter  or  for^.work  b3i;f^hich  he'  can^btairiy.'both.  .  What  can  .W5 
do  with  him  ?/t^efore'1iim  Society  siands  "paralysed,  "qui.etingf'its 
conscience  every  ^  nowJ,  and «.  then  by^  an^  occasion aL. dole j  of  bread 


r  I  J' 


'1  ■ 
I, 


•  :!■.! 


lOd      WORK  .FOR  THE  OUT-OP.WORKS.-THE  FACTORY. 


and^soupl  varied  with  the  semi-cnminal  treatment  of  the  Casua 
Ward,  ontil  the  manhood  is  crushed  out  of  the  man  and  you  have  in 
your  hands  a  ••eckless,  despairing,  spirit-broken  creature,  with  not  even 
an  aspiration  to  rise  above  his  miserable  circumstances,  covered  with 
vermin  and  filth,  sinking  ever  lower  and  lower,  until  at  last  he  is 
hurried  out  of  sight  in  the  rough  shell  which  carries  him  to  a  pauper's 
grave 

I   propose  to  take  that  man,  put  a  strong  arm  round  him,  and 
extricate  him  from  the  mire  In  which  he  is  all  but  suffocated.     As  a 
first  step  we  will  say  to  him,  "  You  are  hungry,  here  is  food ;  you 
are  homeless,  here  is  a  shelter  for  your  head ;  but  remember  you 
must  work  for  your  ration*.     This  is  not  charity  ;  it  is  work  for  the 
workless,  help  for  those  who  cannot  help  themselves.  4. There  is  the 
labour  shed,  go  and  earn  your  fourpence,  and  then  come  in  out  of 
the  cold  and  the  wet  into  the  warm  shelter ;  here  is  your  mug  of 
coffee  and  your  great  chunk  of  bread,  and  after  you  have  finished 
these  there  is  a  meeting  going  on  in  full  swing  with  its  joyful  music 
and  hearty  human  intercourse.     There  are  those  who  pray  for  you 
and  with  you,  and  will  make  you  feel  yourself  a  brother  among  men. 
tThere  is  your  shake-down  on  the  floor,  where  you  will  have  your 
warm,  quieir  -bed,  undisturbed  by  the  ribaldry  and  curses  with  which 
you  have  bc^n  familiar  too  long      There  is  the  wash-house,  where 
you  can  have  a  thorough  wash-up  at  last,  after  all  these  days  of 
unwashedncss.     There  is  plenty  of  soap  and  warm  water  and  clean 
towels ;  there,  too,  you  can  wash  your  shirt  and  have  it  dried  while 
you  sleep.     In  the  morning  when  you  get  up  there  will  be  breakfast 
for  you,  and  3'our  shirt  will  be  dry  and  clean.     Then  when  you  are 
Washed  and  rested,  and  are  no  longer  faint  with  hunger,  you  can  go 
and  seek  a  job,  or  go  back  to  the  Labour  shop  until  something  better 
turns  up." 

But  where  and  how  ? 

Now  let  me  introduce  you  to  our  Labour  Vard.''^Here  is  no 
pretence  of  charity  beyond  the  charity  which  gives  a  man  remunera- 
tive labour.  It  is  not  our  business  to  pay  men  >vages.  What  tre 
propose  is  to  enable  those,  male  or  female,  who  are  destitute,  to  earn 
their  rations  and  do  enough  work  to  pay  for  their  lodging  until  they 
are  able  to  go  out  into  the  world  and  earn  wages  for  themselves. 
There  is  no  compulsion  upon  any  one  to  resort  to  our  shelter,  but  if 
a  penniless  man  wants  food  he  must,  as  a  rule,  do  work  sufficient  to 
fky  for  wllat  he  has  of  that  and  of  other  accommodatibn.  I  say  as  a  rule 


Y. 

he  Casua 
ou  have  in 
h  not even 
I'cred  with 
last  he  is 
a  pauoer's 

him,  and 
ed.  As  a 
food;  you 
mber  you 
rk  for  the 
icre  is  the 

in  out  of 
ur  mug  of 
e  finished 
^ful  music 
y  for  you 
long  men. 
lave  your 
'ith  which 
se,  where 
c  days  of 
and  clean 
*ied  while 
breakfast 
1  you  are 
3U  can  go 
ing  better 


re  is  no 
emunera- 
Whattre 
i,  to  earn 
ntil  they 
:mselves. 
;r,  but  if 
iicient  to 
as  a  rule 


NOT   CHARITY,    BUT    WORK. 


107 


because,  of  course,  our  Officers  will  be  allowed  to  make  exceptions  in 
extreme  cases,  but  the  rule  will  be  first  work  then  eat.  And 
that  amount:  of  work  will  be  exacted  rigorously.  It  is  that  which 
distinguishes  this  Scheme  from  mere  charitable  relief. 

1  do  not  wish  to  have  any  hand  in  establishing  a  new  centre  of 
demoralisation,  i  I  do  not  want  my  customers  to  be  pauperised  by 
being  treated  to  anything  which  they  do  not  earn.  To  develop 
self-respect  ■  in  the  man,  to  make  him  feel  that  at  last  he  has 
got  his  foot  planted  on  the  first  rung  of  the  ladder  which  leads 
upwards,  is  vitally  important,  and  this  cannot  be  done  unless  the 
bargain  between  him  and  me  is  strictly  carried  out.  So  much  coffee, 
so  much  bread,  so  much  shelter,  so  much  warmth  and  light  from  mc, 
but  so  much  labour  in  return  from  him. 

What  labour  ?  it  is  asked.  For  answer  to  this  question  I  would 
like  to  take  you  down  to  our  Industrial  Workshops  in  Whitechapcl. 
There  you  will  see  the  Scheme  in  experimental  operation.  What  we 
are  doing  there  we  propose  to  do  everywhere  up  to  the  extent  of  the 
necessity,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  fail  elsewhere  if  wc 
can  succeed  there. 

Our  Industrial  Factory  at  wniiecnapel  was  established  this  Spnng, 
We  opened  it  on  a  v<:ry  small  scale.  It  has  developed  until  we  have 
nearly  ninety  men  at  work.  Some  of  these  arc  skilled  workmen 
who  are  engaged  in  carpentry.  The  particular  job  they  have  now 
in  hand  is  the  making  of  benches  for  the  Salvation  Army.  Others 
arc  engaged  in  mat  making,  some  are  cobblers,  others  painters,  and 
so  forth.  This  trial  effort  has,  so  far,  answered  admirably.  No 
one  who  is  taken  on  comes  for  a  permanency.  So  long  as  he  is 
willing  to  work  for  his  rations  he  is  supplied  with  materials  and 
provided  with' skilled  superintendents.  The  hours  of  work  are 
eight  per  day. '^  Here  are  the  rules  and  regulations  under  which  the 
work  is  carried  on  at  present : — 

THE   SALVATION  .ARMY  SOCIAL   REFORM   WING. 

■■1 

Temporary  Headquarters — 

36,  Upper  Thames  Street,  Londo.'t,  E.C. 
CITY  INDUSTRIAL  WORKSHOPS. 
Objects.— These  workshops  are  open  for,  the  relief  of  the  tinemployed  and 
destitute,  the  object  being  to  make  it  unnecessary  for  the  homeless  or  workless 
to  be  compelled  to  go  to  the  Workhouse  or  Casual  Ward,  foo^  and  shelter  being 
provided  for  them  in  exchange  for  work  done  by  them,  until  they  can  procure 
work'for  themselves/ or.it. can  be  found  for  them  elsewhere^ 


i  ii 


' 


i 


It 
1  ' 


108      WORK ' FOR '  THE :  OUT-OF-WORKS.-THE :  FACTORY. 


Plan  op  Operation. — AIL  those  applying  for  assistance  will  be  placed 'itv 
what  is 'termed  the  first  class.  '-i'Tlicy  must  be  willing  to  do  any  kind  of  work 
allotted  to  them.  While  they  remain  in  the ' first  class,  they  shall  be  entitled"  to 
three  meals  a  day,  and  shelter  fur  the  night,  and  will  be  expected  in  return  tu 
cheerfully  perform  the  work  allotted  to  them. 

Promotions  will  be  made  from  this  first-class  to  the  second-class  of  all  those 
considered  eligible  by  the  Labour  Directors.  *  They  will,  in  addition  to  the  food 
and  shelter  above  mentioned,  recciyc  surns  of  money  up  to  5srat  the  end  of  (the 
week,  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  them  to  provide  themselves  with  tools,  to  get 
work  outside. 

Kkculations. — No  smoking,  drinking,  bad  language,  or  conduct*  calculated 
to  dcinuralizc  will  be  permitted  on  the  factory  p.rcmises.  No  one  under  the 
inlluence  of  drink  will  be  admitted.  Any  one  refusing  to  work,  or  guilty  of  bad 
coiuhict,  will  be  required  to  leave  the  premises. 

Hours  ok  Work.-*./  a.m.  to  8.30  a.m.;  9  a.m.  to  1  p.m.;  2  p.m.  to  5.30  p.m. 
Doors  will  be  closed  5  minutes  after  7,  9,  and  2  p.m.  Food  Checks  will  be 
given  to  all  as  they  pass  out  at  each  meal  time.  Meals  and  Shelter  provided  at 
272,  Whitechapel  Koad. 

Our  practical  experience  shows  that  we  can  provide  work  by  v/hich 
a  man  can  earn  his  rations.  We  shall  be  careful  not  to  sell  the  goods 
so  manufactured  at  less  than  tha  market  prices.  In  firewood,  for 
instance,  we  have  endeavoured  to  be  rather  above  the  average  than 
below  it.  As  stated  elsewhere,  we  are  firmly  opposed  to  injuring 
one  class  of  workmen  while  helping  another. 

Attempts  on  somewhat  similar  lines  to  those  now  being  described 
have  hitherto  e.xcited  the  liveliest  feelings  of  jealousy  on  the  part  of 
the  Trade  Unions,  and  representatives  of  labour.  They  rightly 
consider  it  unfair  that  labour  partly  paid  for  out  of  the  Rates  and 
Taxes,  or  b}'  Charitable  Contributions,  should  be  put  upon  the  market 
at  less  than  market  value,  and  so  compete  unjustly  with  the  pro- 
duction of  those  who  have  in  the  first  instance  to  furnish  an  impor- 
tant quota  of  the  funds  by  which  these  Criminal  or.  Pauper  workers 
ate  supported.  No  such  jealousy  can  justly  exist  in  relation  to  ot) 
Scheme,  seeing  that  we  are  endeavouring  to  raise  the  standard  of 
labour  and  are  pledged  to  a  war  to  the  death  against  sweating  in 
every  shape  and  form. 

But,  it  will  be  asked,  how  do  these  Out-of-Works'  conduct 
themselves  when  you  get  them  into  the  Factory  ?  Upon  this  point  I 
have  a  very  satisfactory  report  to  render.  Many,  no  doubt,  arc  bel^AV 
par,  undcr-fcd,  and  sufTcruig  from  ill  health,  or  the  conseqiicnoeiol 


RY. 


fTHE    RESULT   OF   PRACTICAL   EXPERIMENT. 


109 


be  placed 'in 
kind  of  work 
e  entitled 'to 
.  in  return  tu  | 

of  all  those 
n  to  the  food  I 
ic  end  of  (the  I 

tools,  to  get 

cf  calculated 

e  under  (he 

juilty  of  bad  I 

to  S-30  p.m. 

ccks  will  be 

provided  at  | 

k  by  v/hich  I 
I  the  goods 
re  wood,  for 
^crage  tlian 
to  injuring! 

;  described 
the  part  of 
ey   rightly  f 
Rates  and  I 
the  market  I 
1  the  pro- 
an  impor- 
;r  workers  I 
on  to  ot) 
andard  of  I 
vcating  in 

•'  conduct 
is  poiiU  I 
tire  bcl^ 
q'ucnoe:ol 


tlwir  intemperance!  Many  also  are  old  men,  who  have  been  crowded 
•  jutof  the  labour  market  by  their  younger  generation,  liut,  without 
making  too  many  allowances  on  these  grounds,  I  may  fairly  say  that 
these  men  have  shown  themselves  not  only  anxious  and  willing,  but 
able  to  work.     Our  Factory  Superintendent  reports  :  ~ 

Of  loss  of  timf  there  has  practically  hcen'nnnp  sinro  the  opening,  June  2qth. 
Knch  man  during  Ijis  stay,  with  hardly  an  exrcption,  has  presented  himself 
punctually  at  opening  time  and  worked  more  or  less  assiduously  the  whole  of 
the  labour  hours.  The  morals  of  the  men  have  been  pond,  in  not  more  than 
three  instances  has  there  been  an  overt  art  of  disobedience,  insubordination,  or 
misiliief.  Tlic  men,  as  a  wliolc.  arc  uniformly  ttvil,  willing,  and  satisHed:  they 
are  all  fairly  industrious,  some,  ana  that  not  a  few,  arc  assiduous  and  energetic. 
The  Foremen  have  hau  no  serious  complaints  to  makc-or  delinquencies  to  report. 

On  the   1 5th  of  August  1  had  a  return  made  of  the  n  imes  and 

trades  and  mode  of  employment  of  the  men  at  work.     Of  the  forty 

in  the  shops  at  that  moment,  eight  were  carpenters,  tv.'elve  labourers, 

two  tailors,  two  sailors,  three  clerks,  two  engineers,  while  among  the 

rest  was  a  shoemaker,  two  grocers,  a  cooper,  asailmaker,  a  musician, 

a  painter,  and  a  stonemason.     Nineteen  of  those  were  employed  in 

•»awi  ig,  cutting  and  tying  up  firewood,  si.\  were  making  mats,  seven 

making  sacks,  and  the  rest  were    employed    in  various   odd  jobs. 

Among  them  was  a  Russian  carpenter  who  could  not  speak  a  word 

of  English.     The  wliole  place  is  a  hive  of  industry  which  fills  the 

hearts  of  those  who  go  to  see  it  with  hope  that  something  is  about 

to  be  done  to  solve  the  difficulty  of  the  unemployed. 

Although  our  Factories  will  be  permanent  institutions  they  will  not 
be  anything  more  than  temporary  resting-places  to  those  who  avail 
themselves  ot  theif  advantages.  They  are  harbours  of  refuge  into 
which  the  storm-tossed  workman  may  run  and  re-fit,  so  that  he  may 
again  pu.sh  out  to  the  ordinary  sea  of  labour  and  earn  his  living. 
The  establishment  of  these  Industrial  Factories  seems  to  be  one  of 
the  most  obvious  duties  of  those  who  would  effectually  deal  with  the 
Social  Problem.  They  are  as  indispensable  a  link  in  the  chain  of 
deliverance  ..^  the  Shelters,  but  they  are  only  a  link  and  not  a- 
stopping-place.  And  we  do  not  propose  that  they  should  be 
regarded  as  anything  but  stepping-stones  Ito  better  things. 

These  Shops  will  also  be  of  service  for  men  and  women  temfmrarilyj 
tihemployed  who  have  families,  and  who  possess  some  sort  of  « 
home.  In  numerous  ihstances,  if  by  any  means  these  unfortunates 
could ^find  bread  and  rent  for  a  few  weeksj  they  would  tide  over 


■■:■' 


:■. 


I. 
■ ''  ii 

i  'I 


■■'■J 


:\ 


MO       WORK  FOR  THE  OUT-OF-WORKS.    THE  FACTORY. 

their  difficulties,  and  an  untold  amount  of  misery  would  \y*  averted. 
In  such  cases  Work  would  be  supplied  at  their  own  homes  where 
preferred,  especially  fopthe  "women  and  children,  and  such  remuncra- 
ifoii  would  be  aimed  at  a<»  would  supply  the  immediate  necessities  of 
the  hour.  To  those  who  have  rent  to  pay  and  fdmilies  lo  support 
something  beyond  rations  would  be  indispensable. 

The  Labour  Sliops  will  enable  us  to  work  out  our  Anti-b\\ eating 
experiments.  For  instance,  we  propose  at  once  to  commence  manu- 
facturing match  boxes,  for  which  we  shall^im  at  giving  nearly  treble 
the  amount  at  present  paid  to  the  poor  starving  creatures  engaged  in 
this  work. 

In  all  these  workshops  our  success  will  depend  upon  the  extent 
to  which  we  are  able  to  establish  and  maintain  in  the  minds  of  th^ 
workers  sound  moral  sentiments  and  to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  hope- 
fulness and  aspiration.  We  shall  continually  seek  to  impress  upon 
them  the  fact  that  while  w*  desire  to  feed  the  hungry,  and  clothe  the 
naked,  and  provide  shelter  for  the  shelterless,  w^  aro  still  more 
anxious  to  bring  abou*:  that  regeneration  of  heart  and  life  which  is 
essential  to  their  future  happiness  and  well-being 

But  no  compu^'iion  will  for  a  moment  be  allowed  with  respect  to 
religion.  The  man  who  professes  to  love  and  scrv^  God  will  be 
helped  because  of  such  profq^sion,  and  the  man  who  docs  not  will 
be  helped  in  the  hope  that  he  will,  «ooner  or  later,  in  grati- 
tude to  God,  do  the  same;  but  ther^  w'll  be  no  melancholy  miser\- 
makiiig  for  any.  There  is  no  sanctimonious  long  face  in  tin- 
Army.  We  talk  freely  about  Salvation,  because  it  is  to  us 
the  very  light  and  joy  of  our  existence.  We  are  happy,  and  wc 
wish  others  to  share  our  joy.  We  know  by  our  own  experience 
that  life  is  a  very  different  thing  when  we  have  found  the  peace 
of  God,  and  are  working  together  with  Him  for  the  salvation  of  the 
world,  instead  of  toiling  for  the  realisation  of  worldly  ambitioa  or 
the  amassing  of  earthly  gain. 


wm 


Sewiok  3.— the  regimentation  OF  THE  UNEMPLOYED. 

When  we  have  got  the  homeless,  penniless  tramp  v/ashed,  ar.d 
housed,  and  fed  at  the  Shelter,  and  have  secured  him  the  means  of 
earning  his  fourpence  by  chopping  firewood,  or  making  mats  or 
cobbling  the  shoes  of  his  fellow-labourers  at  the  Factory,  we  have 
next  to  seriously  address  ourselves  to  the  problem  of  how  to  help 
him  to  get  back  into  the  regular  ranks  of  industry.  The  Shelter  and 
the  Factory  are  but  stepping-stones,  which  have  this  advantage,  they 
give  us  time  to  look  round  and  to  see  what  there  is  in  a  man  and 
what  we  can  make  of  him. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  thing  to  do  is  to  ascertain  whether 
there  is  any  demand  in  the  regular  market  for  the  labour  which  is 
thus  thrown  upon  our  hands.  In  order  to  ascertain  this  ''l  have 
already  established  a  Labour  Bureau,  the  operations  of  which  I 
shall  at  once  largely  extend,  at  which  employers  can  register  their 
needs,  and  workmen  can  register  their  names  and  the  kind  of  work 
they  can  do. 

At  present  there  is  no  labour  exchange  in  existence  in  this  country. 
The  columns  of  the  daily  newspaper  are  the  only  substitute  for  this  much 
needed  register.  It  is  one  of  the  many  painful  consequences  arising 
from  the  overgrowth  of  cities.  In  a  village  where  everybody  knows 
everybody  else  this  necessity  does  not  exist.  If  a  farmer  wants  a 
couple  of  extra  men  for  mowing  or  some  more  women  for  binding 
at  harvest  time,  he  runs  over  in  his  mind  the  na^.^s  of  every  avail- 
able person  in  the  parish.  Even  in  a  small  town  there  is  little 
difficulty  in  knowing  who  wants  employment.  <-  But  in  the  cities 
this  knowledge  is  not  available ;  hence  we  constantly  hear  of  per- 
sons who  would  be  very  glad  to  employ  labour  for  odd  jobs  in  an 
occasional  stress  of  work  while  at  the  same  time  hundreds  of  persons 
are  starving  for  want  of  work  at  another  end  of  the  town.%To  mtt^t 
this  evil  the  laws  of  Supply  and  Demand  have  created  theiSweathig 


1'.  (-.' 


r  '-; 


I.  '• 


'112'_        THE    REGIMENTATION    OF   THE    UNEMPLOYED. 


Midciloncn,  who  farm  out  th«  unfortunarea  And  chavipe  s6  hitAvy  a 
commiRsion  for  their  share  that  the  poor  wrctehts  who  do  thfr  work 
receive  hardly  cfiongh  to  fcccf>  bo<^y  and  soul  together.  I  prDpose 
to  change  all  this  by  establishing  Registers  which  will  enable  us  to 
'ay  our  hands  a*  a  moment's  notice  upon  all  the  unemployed  men  in 
a  district  in  any  particului  trade.  In  this  way  we  shcMjId  become 
the  universal  intermediary  between  those  who  have  no  employment 
and  those  who  want  workmen. 

In  this  we  do  not  propose  to  supersede  or  interfere  with  the 
regular  Trade  Unions.  Where  Unions  exist  we  should  place  our- 
selves in  every  casejn  communication  with  their  officials.  But  the 
most  helpless  mass  of  misery  is  to  be  foiind  among  the  unorganised 
labourers  who  have  no  Union,  and  who  are,  therefore,  the  natural 
prey  of  the  middleman.  Take,  for  instance,  one  of  the  most 
wretched  classes  of  the  comnmnity,  the  poor  fellows  who  per- 
ambulate the  streets  as  Sandwich  Men.  These  are  farmed  out  by 
certain  firms,  If  you  wish  to  send  fifty  or  a  hundred  men  thron.:,'i 
I  ondon  carrying  boards  announcing  the  excellence  of  your  good;., 
you  go  to  an  advertising  firm  who  will  undertake  to  supply  you 
with  as  m,any  sandwi  ;!i  men  as  you  want  for  two  shillings  or  hr.lf  o 
crown  a  d.iy.  '  The  men  are  forthcommg,  your  goods  are  advertised, 
you  pay  your  money,  but  how  much  of  that  goes  to  the  men  .<* 
About  one  shilling,  or  one  shilling  and  threepence  ;  the  rest  goes  to 
the  middleman.  I  propose  to  supersede  this  middleman  by  forming 
a  Co-operative  Association  of  Sandwich  Men.  At  every  Shelter  there 
would  be  a  Sandwich  Brigade  ready  in  any  numbers  when  wanted, 
The  cost  of  registration  and  organisation,  which  the  men  would 
gladly  pay,  need  not  certainly  amount  to  more  than  a  penny  in  the 
shilling. 

All  that  is  needed  is  to  establish  a  trust,worfhy  and  disinterested 
centre  round  which  the  unemployed  can  group  themselves,  and 
which  will  form  the  nucleus  of  a  great  Co-operative  Self-helping 
Association.  Tfie  advantages  of  such  a  Bureau  are  obvious.  But  in 
this,  also,  I  do  pot  speak  from  theory.  1  have  behind  me  the 
experience  of  seven  months  of  labour  both  in  England  and  Australia. 
Jn  London  we  have  a  registration  office  in  Upper  Thames  Street, 
where  the  unemployed  come  every  morning  in  droves  ta  register 
their  names  and  ta  see  whether  they  can  obtain  situations.  In 
Australia,  I  see,  it  was -stated  in  the  House  of  Assembly  t]liat  our 
Officer?  "^ad  been  instrumental  in  finding  ^cuatkms  for >iiaii^  than 


n_ 


THE,  LABOUR    BUREAU    AT  .WORK; 


,113 


jbncihundrcd  and  thirty-two  **  Out-of-W6rks  "  in  a  few'daysj  llere; 
ijp' London,  we  have  succeeded  in  obtaining  employment  for^a^great 
.nuinber,.^al.though/  of  course,  it  is  beyond ,  our  power  to  -help  r  all 
those  who  apply.  We  have  sent  hay-makers  >  down  to  the 'countryj 
aind' there  r  is  every^,  reagpn 'to  believe  that' when  our  Organisation 
isVJjctter  .known, 'tand^-  in  more  extended  operation,  we  shall 
have  ;?a,- great:  labour  .exchange  between  town  and  country,  so' 
that  .when  there  is  scarcity  in  one  place  and  congestion  in  anotherj 
thc^  \^U  be  information  in^mediatcly  sent,  so  that  the  surplus  labour 
can  l)e^^rafted' into  those  districts  where  labour  is  wanted.  ^For 
instance,'  in  the  harvest  seasons,  with  changeable  weather,  it  is  quite 
a  common  occurrence  for  the  crops  to  be  seriously  damaged. for  want 
of  labourers,  while  at  the  same  time  there  will  be  thousands  wandering 
about  in  the  big  towns  and  cities  seeking  work,  but  finding  no  one  to 
hire  them. ;/  Extend  this  system  all  over  the  world,  and  make  it  not 
only  applicable  to  the  transfer  of  workers  between  the  towns  and  the 
provinces,  but  between  Country  and  Country,  and  it  is  impossible  to 
exaggerate  the  enormous  advantages  which  would  result.  The  officer 
in  charge  of  our  experimental  Labour  Bureau  sends  me  the  following 
notes  as  to  what  has  already  been  done  through  the  agency  of  the 
Upper  Thames  Street  office  : —  , 

SALVATION  ARMY  SOCIAL  REFORM  WING. 


LABOR   BUREAU. 

Bureau  opeiifd  June  i6th,  1890.    The  following  are  particulars  of  transactions 
up  to  September  26tli,  1890  :- 

Applications  for  employment—  Men  

Women      

Applications  from  Employers  tor  Men    

••  II  Women 


Sent  to  Work—Men  ..1 
M  Women 


•••  ••• 


•  ••  •••  ••• 


Permanent  Situations... 

Temporary  Employment,  viz:— Boardmen, 

Cleaners,  &c.,  &c  

,SeBt  to  Workshop  in  HaQhury  Street 


••*  •••  ••• 


2462 

208 

2670 

128 

59 

187 

301 
68 

309 

146 

223 

16s 


.1  • 


.■    i: 


, 


.,  I  .|, 


-iVr     ■  ■'-'» 


'■  "'^y'' 


.  ■■!  -  ■  ">i  t ;. 


I'^V-'-V 


:"i'i 


SiCTioN  4.~THE  HOUSEHOLD  SALVAGE  BRIGADE 

It  is  obvious  that, the  moment  you  begin  to  find  work  for  the  un- 
employed labour;  of Ulie  community,  tio  matter  wliat  you  do  by  way 
bf^the* registration 'and  bringing  together  of  those  who  Want  work 
and  those  who  want  workers,  there  will  still  remain  a  vast  residuum 
of.:  unemployed,  and  itwill  be  the  duty  of  those  who  undertake  to 
deal,  with  the  question  to  devise  means  for  securing  them  cmplpyr 
ment.  ^  Many /.things  •  are  possible  when  there  "is  a  directing  in- 
telligence at  headquarters  and  discipline  in  the  rank  and  file,  which 
would  be  utterly  impossible  when  everyone  is  left  to  go  where  he 
pleases,  when  ten  men  are  running  for  one  man's  job,  and  when  no 
one' can  be  depended  upon  to  be  in  the  way  at  the  time  he  is 
wanted.rji'When  my  Scheme  is  carried  out,  there  will  be  in  every 
populous  centre  a  Captain  of  Industry,  an  Officer  specially  charged 
with  the '  regimentation  of  unorganis'ed  labour,  who  would  be  con- 
tinually on  the  alert,  thinking  how  best  to  utilise  the  waste  human 
material  in  his  district. .  It  is  contrary  to  all  previous  experience  to 
suppose  that  the  addition  of  so  much  trained  intelligence  will  not 
operate  beneficially  in  securing  the  disposal  of  a  commodity  which  is 
at  present  a  drug  in  the  market. 

Robertson,  of  Brighton,  used  frequently  to  remark  tnat  every 
truth  was  built  up  of  two  apparent  contradictory  propositions.  •  In 
the  same  way  I  may  say  that  the  solution  of  every  social  difficulty 
is  to  be  found  in  the  discovery  of  two  corresponding  difficulties.  \v  It 
is  like  the  puzzle  maps  of  children,  .v  When  you  are  putting  one 
^together,  you  suddenly  come  upon  some  awkward  piece  that  will  not 
fit  in  anywhere,  but  you  do  not-  in  disgust  and  despair  break  your 
piece  into  fragments  or  throw  it  away.  •  On  the  contrary,  you  keep 
itiby  3'ou,  knowing  that  before  long  you  will  discover  a  numb«i^of 
CMier  pieces  which  it  will  be  impossible  to  fit ^  in  until* you ^iix;|5^our 
cminanaMeable,  unshapely  piece  in  the  centre)    Now,'  in.thelwbrkbf 


WANTED,    A    NERVOUS^  SYSTEM 4FOR    SOCIETY.'         II6 


piecing  together  the  fragments  which  lie  scattered  around  tlie  base 
of  our  social  system  we  must  not  despair  because  we  have  in  ult 
unorganised,  untrained  labourers  that  which  seems  hopelessly  out 
of  fit  with  every thing'around;  There  must  be  somctliing  correspond- 
ing to  it  which  is  equally  useless  until  he  can  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  it.'^*'  In  other  words,  having  got  one  difficulty  in  Uie  case  of  the 
Out-of- Works,  wc  must  cast  about  to  find  another  difHculty  to  pair  off 
against  it,  and  then  out  of  two  difficulties  will  arise  the  solution  of 
the  problem. 

Wc  shall  not  have  far  to  seek  before  we  discover  in  every  town 
and  in  every  country  the  corresponding  element  to  our  unemployed 
labourer.  We  have  waste  labour  on  the  one  hand  ;  we  have  waste 
commodities  on  the  other.  About  waste  land  I  shall  speak  in  the 
next  chapter ;  I  am  concerned  now  solely  with  waste  commodities. 
Herein  we  have  a  means  of  immediately  employing  a  large  number 
of  men  under  conditions  which  will  enable  us  to  permanently  provide 
for  many  of  those  whose  hard  lot  we  are  now  considering. 

I  propose  to  establish  in  every  large  town  what  I  may  call  "  A 
Household  Salvage  Brigade,"  a  civil  force  of  organised  collectors, 
who  will  patrol  the  whole  town  as  regularly  as  the  policeman,  who 
will  have  their  appointed  beats,  and  each  of  whom  will  be  entrusted 
with  the  task  of  collecting  the  waste  of  the  houses  in  their  circuit. 
In  small  towns  and  villages  this  is  already  done,  and  it  will  be 
noticed  that  most  of  the  suggestions  which  I  have  put  forth  in  this 
book  are  based  upon  the  central  principle,  which  is  that  of  restoring 
to  the  over-grown,  and,  therefore,  uninformed  masses  of  population 
in  our  towns  the  same  intelligence  and  co-operation  as  to  the  mutual 
wants  of  each  and  all,  that  prevails  in  your  small  town  or  village. 
•The  latter,  is  the  manageable  unit,  because  its  dimensions  and  its 
heeds  have  not  put-grown  the  range  of  the  individual  intelligence 
and.:ability.  of -f those  who  dwell  therein.  *  Oar  troubles  in  large 
towns  ^  arise'  chiefly  from  the  fact  that  the  massing  of  population 
has  caused  the  physical  bulk  of  Society  to  outgrow  its  intelligence. 
It  is  as  if  a  human  being  had  suddenly  developed  fresh  limbs  which 
were  not  connected  by  any  nervous  system  with  the  gray  matter  of 
his.  brain^f  Such  a  thing  is  impossible  in  the  Immao  bieing^  but, 
unfortunatiely, '  it  is  only  too  possible  in  human  society. '"-  In  the 
human  .bbidy  i>o  member  can  sufier  without  an  instantaneous  telo- 
grainrj:^ng^ despatched,  as  it ^were,  to  the  seat  of  intelligence;  the 
!fOQ£iQrl the  1  finger ^  crie^iowtlwheni  it„  suffersi^and^  the^whole  body 


116 


THE    HOUSEHOLD   SALVAGE :i  BRIGApE. 


.  — °^ — — •      >»>iii 


suffers  with  'it!  ■  „  So,  in  a  small  community,  every  one,  rich  and  pcor, 
is  more  or  less  cognizant  of  tbc  sufTcrings  of  tlie-community.  lifa 
largg  town,  where  people  have  ceased  to  "be  neighbourly,  there- is 
only  a  congested  nias<»  of  imputation  settled  down  on  a  ccrtay)  small 
area  without  auy  huniaij  tics  connecting'  tbcm  togetlvcr.  '*  Here, 
it  is  perfectly  possible,  and  it  frequently  happens,  that^  men 
actually ,  die  of  starvation  within  a  few  doors;  of-  thoae  Vwho, 
if  they  had  been  informed  of  the  *  actual-  condition  -of  the 
suflcrcr  that  lay  within  earshot  of  their  comfortable  drawing- 
rooms,  would  have  been  eajjcr  to  minister  the  needed  relief.  •  What 
we  have  to  do,  therefore,  is  to  grow  a  new  nervous  system  for  the 
body  politic,  to  create  a  swift,  almost  automatic,  means  of  communi- 
cation between  the  community  as  a  whole  and  the  meanest  of  its 
members,  so  as  lo  restore  to  the  city  what  the  village  possesses. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  •  plan%hich  I  have  suggested  is  the  only 
plan  or  the  best  plan  conceivable.  All  that  I  claim  for  it  is  that  it 
is  the  only  plan  wliich  I-  can  conceive  as  practicable  at  the  present 
moment,  and  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  holds  the  field  alone,  for  no 
one,  so  (hr  as  I  hav^bcen  able  to  discover,  even  proposes  toreconsti- 
tutc  the  connection  between  what  1  have  called  the  gray  matter  of 
the  brain  of  the  municipal  community  and  all 'the  individual  units 
wlUch  make  up  the  body  politic. ' 

Gari'ying  out  the  same  idea  'I>comc  to  tne  problem  of  the  waste 
commodities  of  the  towns,  and  wc  will  take  this  as  an  earnest  of  the 
working  out  of  the  generalkprinciple.  In  the  villages  there  is  very 
little  wajjtc.  "v^  Tiic  sewage  is  applied  directly  to  the  land,  and  so 
becomes  a 'source  of  wealth  instead  ,x)f;  being  emptied  into  great 
subterranean '^  reservoirs, '  to  generate^jpoisonous  gases,  which  by  a 
most  ingenious"!  arrangement,"^  are  v.  then,'  poured,,  focth  into  the 
very  heart  of  our  dwellings,*as.,  js  the  case  in  tlj^e  great  cities. 
Neither  is  there  any,  waste  jofa-- broken  Yictuals.'^-'The  'villi^ger 
has ■  his  , pig  •  or  .  bis  poultry,  or  ir^ihejjhas '".not  a  pig  his 
neighbour  has  one,  and  •  the -colleetion7o.fi:.brq|^ien  victuals  is  con- 
ducted as  regularly  as  the  delivery  of  the  post.'-'*f  And  as  it  is  with 
brcdcen  victuals,  so  it  is  with'  rags  and  bones,  and  old  iron,  and  all 
the  d^is  of  a  household.  flWhen  I  .was  a  boy  one  of  the  most 
familiar  figures  in  the  streets  of  a  country  town  was  the  man,  who, 
with  his  small  hand-barrow- or.  donkey-cart,  made  a- rcgfular  patrol 
through  all  the  streets  once  a  week,-  collecting  rags^^ones,' and  all 
other  waste  matenals,^1)uying^  the .  same  >(rom:«theJ^)iyeniIeft.iwho 


ind  poor, 
ty.  Irfa 
,  there-is 
ajf)  small 

''^Herc, 
lat  I  men 
ae    who, 

of  the 
drawing- 
;  •  What 
n  for  the 
ommuni- 
st  of  its 
ses. 

the  only 
3  that  it 

present 
c,  for  no 
reconsti- 
iiatter  of 
lal  units 

le  waste 
St  of  the 
is  very 
and  so 
o  great 
:h   by  a 
nto    the 
t  cities, 
villijger 
pig    his 
is  con- 
is  with 
and  ajl 
le  most 
n,  who, 
r  patrol 
and  all 
eftiwho 


HOW    TO    DEAL   WITH    LONDON. 


117 


collected  them  in  specie,  not  of  Her  Majesty's  current  coin,  but  of 
common  sweetmeats,  known  as  "  claggum  "  or  "  taffy.'*     Wlien  the 
tootling  of  his  familiar  horn   was  heard  the  cliildrcn   would  bring 
out  their  stores,  and  trade  as  best  they  could  with  the  ifincrant 
merchant,  with  the  result  that  the  closets  which  in  our  towns  to-day 
have  become  the  receptacles  of  all  kinds  of  disused  lumber  wcra 
kept  then  swept  and  garnished.     Now,  what  I  want  to  know  is  why 
can  we  not  establish  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  our  extended 
needs  the  rag-and-bone  industry  in  all  our  great  towns  ?   That  there  ir. 
::ufncient  to  pay  for  the  collection  is,  I  think,  indisputable.     If  it  paid 
in  a  small  North-country  town  or  Midland  village,  why  would  it  not 
pay  much  better  in  an  area  where  the  houses  stand  more  closely 
iogether,  and  where  lujcurious  living  and  thriftless  habits  have  so 
increased  that  there   must  be  proportionately  far  more  breakage, 
more  waste,  and,  therefore,  more  collectable  matter  than  in  the  niral 
distrirts  ?    In  looking  over  the  waste  of  London  it  has  occurred  to 
me  that  in  the  debris  of  our  households  there  is  sufficient  food,  il 
utilised,  to  feed  many  of  the  starving  poor,  and  to  employ  aomc 
thousands  of  them  in  its  collection,  and.  in  addition,  largely  to  assist 
the  general  scheme. 

What  I  propose  would  be  to  go  to  work  on  something  like  the 
following  plan  : — 

London  would  be  divided  into  districts,  beginning  with  that  port- 
tion  of  it  most  likely  to  furnish  the  largest  supplies  of  what  would  be 
worth  collection.  Two  men,  or  a  man  and  a  bov.  would  be  told  ofi 
for  this  purpose  to  this  district. 

Households  v/ould  be  requested  to  allow  a  receptacle  to  be  placed 
in  some  convenient  spot  in  which  the  servants  could  deposit  the 
waste  food,  and. a  sack  of  some  description  would  also  be  supplied 
for  the  paper,  rags,  &c. 

The  whole  would  be  collected,  say  once  or  tv;ice  a  week,  or  more 
frequently,  according  to  the  season  and  circumstances,  and  transferred 
to  depdts  as  central  as  possible  to  the  different  districts. 

At  present  much  of  this  waste  is  thrown  into  the  dust-bin,  there 
to  fester  and  breed  disease.  Then  there  are  old  newspapers,  ragged 
books,  old  bottles,  tins,  canisters,  etc.  We  all  know  what  a  number 
of  articles  there  aro  which  are  not  quite  bad  enough  to  be  thrown 
into  the  dust  heap,  and  yet  are  no  good  to  us.  "We  put 
them  on  one  side,  hoping  that  sorn 'filing  may  turn  up,  and 
as  that  something  very  seldom  does  turn  up,  there  they,  remain. 


(.,,; 


I'J 


118 


TftE  "hojseholoIsalvageTbrigade: 


Crippled  musical  instrumcnts7 for' inst,ancc,'*x>ld~toys,'^broken-down 
perambulators,  old  clothes,  all  the  things,*  in  ■short,  for  which  we 
have  no  more  need,  and  for  which  there  .is  no, market  within" our 
reach,  but  which  we  feel  it  would  be  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  destroy. 

When  I  get  my  Household  Salvage  Brigade  properly  organised," 
beginning,  as  J  said,  in  some  district  where  we  should  be  likely  to 
meet  with  most  matdrial,  our  uniformed  collectors 'would  call  every 
other  day  or  twice  a  week  with  their  hand  barrow  or  pony  cart. j;^.  As 
these  men  would  be  under  strict  discipline,' and  numbered,  the  house- 
holder  would  have  a  security  against  any  abuse  of  which  such 
regular  callers  might  otherwise  be  the  occasion. 

At  present  the  rag  and  bone  man  who  drives  a  more  or  less  pre- 
carious livelihood  by  intermittent  visits,  is  looked  upon  askance  by 
prudent  housewives.  They  fear  in  many  cases  he  takes  the  refuse 
in  order  to  have  the  opportunity  of  finding  something  which  may  be 
worth  while  "  picking  up,"  and  should  he  be  impudent  or  negligent 
there  is  no  authority  to  whojn  they  can  appeal.  Under  our  Brigade, 
each  district  would  have  its  numbered  officer,  who  would  himself  be 
subordinate  to  a  superior  officer,  to  whom  any  complaints  could  be 
made,  and  whose  duty  it  would  be  to  sec  that  the  officers  under  his 
command  punctually  performed  their  rounds  and  discharged  their 
duties  without  offence. 

Here  let  me  disclaim  any  intention  of  interfering  with  the  Little 
Sisters  of  the  Poor,  or  any  other  persons,  who  collect  the  broken 
victuals  of  hotels  and  other  establishments  for  charitable  purposes. 
My  object  is  not  to  poach  on  my  neighbour's  domains,  lior  shall  I 
ever  be  a  party  to  any  contentious  quarrels  for  the  control  of  this  or 
that  source  of  supply.  All  that  is  already  utilised  I  regard  .is  outside 
my  sphere.  The  unoccupied  wilderness  of  waste  is  a  wide  enough 
area  for  the  operations  of  our  Brigade.  But  it  will  be  found  in 
practice  that  there  are  no  competing  agencies.  While  the  broken 
victuals  of  certain  large  hotels  are  regularly,  collected,  the  things 
before  enumerated,  and  a  number  of  others,  are  untouched  because  not 
sought  after. 

Of  the  immense  extent  to  which  Food  is  wasted  few  people  have 
any  notion  except  those  who  have  vnjxde  actual  expcrvments.  .  Some 
y«ai»  .ago,  Lady  Wolseley  established  a  system  of  collection  from 
house  to  house  in  May  fair,  in  order  to  secure  materials  for  a 
charitable  kitchen  which,  in  concert  with  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts,  she 
had:: started  at  Westminster.    Ihc  a.iiount  of  the  food  which ^shc, 


or 

vri 

an^ 

th| 

of-t 

inc 

byj 

wi| 

dirl 


m 


WASTE    FOOD   AND    OLD    CLOTHES. 


110 


gathered  was  enormous.  Somctiines  legs  of  mutton  from  which  only 
one  or  two  slices  had  been  cut  were  thrown  into  the  tub,  where  they 
waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  cart  on  its  rounds.  ;  It  is  by  no  means 
an  excessive  estimate  to  assume  that  the  waste  of  the  kitchens  of 
the  West  End  yrould  provide  a  sufficient  sustenance  for  all  the  Out- 
of- Works  who  will  be  employed  in  our  labour  sheds  /■  at  the 
industrial  centres.  All  that  it  needs  is  collection,  prompt,  systematic, 
by  disciplined  men  who  can  be  relied  upon  to  discharge  their  task 
with  punctuality  and  civility,  and  whose  failure  in  this  duty  can  be 
directly  b.rought  to  the  attention  of  the  controlling  authority. 

Of  the  utilisation  of  much  of  the  food  which  is  to  be  so  collected  I 
shall  speak  hereafter,  when  I  come  to  describe  the  second  great 
division  of  my  scheme,  namely  the  Farm  Colony.  Much  of  the  food 
collected  by  the  Household  Salvage  Brigade  would  not  be  available 
for  human  consumption.  In  this  the  greatest  care  would  be  exercised, 
and  the  remainder  would  be  dispatched,  if  possible,  by  barges  down 
the  river  to  the  Farm  Colony,  where  we  shall  meet  it  hereafter. 

But  food  is  only  one  of  the  materials  which  we  should  handle. 
At  our  Whitechapel  Factory  there  is  one  shoemaker  whom  we  picked 
off  the  streets  destitute  and  miserable.  He  is  now  saved,  and 
happy,  and  robbles  away  at  the  shoe  leather  of  his  mates.  That 
shoemaker,  i  foresee,  is  but  the  pioneer  of  a  whole  army  of  shoe- 
makers constantly  at  work  ni  repairing  the  cast-oft'  boots  and  shoes 
of  London.  Already  in  some  provincial  towns  a  great  business  is 
done  b;'  the  conversion  of  old  shoes  into  new.  They  call  the  men 
so  employed  translators.  Boots  and  shoes,  as  every  wearer  of 
them  knows,  do  not  go  to  pieces  all  at  once  or  in  all  parts  at  once. 
The  sole  often  wears  out  utterly,  while  the  upper  leather  is  quite 
good,  or  the  upper  leather  bursts  while  the  sole  remains  prnrtically 
in  a  salvnble  condition  :  but  your  individual  pair  of  shoes  and  boots 
arc  no  good  to  you  when  any  section  of  them  is  hopelessly  gone  to 
the  bad.  .  But  give  our  trained  artist  in  leather  and  his  army  of 
assistants  a  couple  of  thousand  pairs  of  boots  and  shoes,  and  it  will 
go  ill  wjth  him  if  out  of  the  couple  of  thousand  pairs  ojF  wrecks  he 
cannot  construct  five,  hundred  pairs,  which,  if '.not  quite  good,  will 
be  immeasurably  better  than  the  apol^ifies  for  boot^  which  cover 
the  feet  of  many  a  poor  tramp,  to  say  nothing  of  the^ thousands  of 
poor  children  who  are  at  tlie  present  moment  attending  our>  public 
•ichools.  ;^  In  some  towns  they  have  already  established  a.. Boot  and 
SliocFund  in.order^tovprovide.the  little  ones -who- come  to^chool 


I  i 


"  ii 


■■'! 


15p 


THe- HOUSEHOLD"  SALVAGE   BRIGADE. 


with  shoes  warranted  not^to  let  in  water.^between  the  school  house 
aiid  home.^K  Wh en '?you 'remember  the  43,000  children  'who  arc 
reported  by  the  SchooIBoard  to  attend  the'schools  of  London  alone 
unfed  and  starving,.doyou'"'not'r think  there  are  many  thousands  to 
whomlwe  could xasily  dispose,  with  advantage,  the  resuirected shoes 
of  our  13oot  Factory ;? 

This,  howcver^^is  only.?,  one.-,  branch,  of  ^  industry.  Take  old 
umbrellas.'}!,  W^  till  /know:vthe"?  itinerant  umbrella  mender,  whose 
appearance  in  the  "neighbourhood  of.  the 'farmhouse  leads  the  good 
wife  to  look  after  her^r  poultry  ajid  to  see  well  to  it  that  the  watch- 
dog is  on  the  prcmises.ikJ^  But'  that  gentleman  is  almost  the  only 
agency  by  which  old  umbrellas  tan  be  rescued  from  the  dust  licap. 
Side  by  side  with  our  Boot  Factory  v/e  shall  have  a  great  umbrella 
works.  The  ironwork  of  one  umbrella  will  be  fitted  to  the  stick  of 
another,  and  even  from  those  that  are  too  hopelessly  gone  for  any 
further  use  as  umbrellas  we  shall  find  plenty  of  use  for  their  steels 
and  whalebone..'  " 

So  I  might  go  on.  ;  Bottles  are  a  fertile  source  of  minor  domestic 
worry.  -  When'you  buy  a  bottle  you  have  to  pay  a  penny  for  it ; 
but  v/hen  you  have  emptied  it  you  cannot  get  a  penny  back ;  no,  nor 
even  a  farthing.^^jYou -throw  your  empt}'  bottle  either  into  the  dust 
heap,  or  let  it  lie  about.  *>' But  if  we  could  collect  all  the  waste  bottles 
of  London 'every  day,r it  would  go  hardly  wilh  us  if  we  could  not 
turn  a  very  pretty  penny  by  washing  them,  sorting  them,  and  send- 
ing them  out  on  a  new  lease  of  hfe. ''•The  washing  of  old  bottles 
alone  will  keep  a  considerable  number  of  people  going.  ' 

I  can  imagine  the. objection  which  will  be  raised  by  «omc  short- 
sighted people,  that  by  giving  the  old,  second-hand  material  a  new 
lease  of  life  it  will  be  said  that -.we  shall  diminish  the  demand  for 
new  material,  and  •  so  curtail  Work  and  wages  at  one  f;^d  while  we 
arc  endeavouring  to  piece  oii' something  at  the  other.  '  This  objec- 
tion reminds  me  pf  a  remark ; of  \a  North  Country  pilot  who,  when 
spea]<ii,i^;^pf "|[hQ54w^"Css  in  -the  shipbuilding  industry,  said  tliat 
3^ot])iD8^^\vould  :do?,any  good  but  a  serieg.  of  heavy  storms,  which 
would  send  a  goodly  number  of  oceailVgoing  steamers  to  the  bottom, 
to  replace  whichj  this  politicaL  economist  thoughl,  the  yards  would 
once  more  be  filldd  with,  orders.  -VThis,  liovvever,  is  not  the  way  in 
which  work  is  supplied.  Economy  is  a  great  auxihary^to  trade, 
inasmuch  as  the  money  saved  is  expended  on  other. products  of 
industry^ 


ClfESTOXS^OR^TJtlETJVIimiOfiBv 

HI      ;i     »»  *!■      II  r   111  V      -      ..    m,:.m-^ 


121 


Tliefe*  is^ 


■  one  material  that 
whMfttiis  t'fte  despair 


is  coiitinaally  increasing  i vi  iqoBOitity; 
c  iife'*6f  the  housr.holder.and  oi'  the  l<ocal 
S$hi1«ir]fc-Auih<srrty.  I  ^rofer  to  the  tins  in.  which  provisions,  are 
supplied;  Nowadays  'everything-  comes  Tto'^'Us  in  tins.  We  .have 
coffee  tins,  meat  tins,  sahnon  tins;-,and"  tins"h</  «a«sfa;;;.  Tin  is 
becoming  more  flhd  TtTofe  ,the';xiniversaj  envelbpeV.of  the  rations  of 
man.  i^'But  when  yoi/ti4¥6''  extracted  the  contents  of.  the  .tin  what 
can  y5u  do  with  it?  jl^^fe  mountains  of  tmpty.tinsjie  aboutr  every 
dustyard,  for  as  yet  "no  man  has  discovered  a  means  of.utilising  them 
when  in  great  masses. ;  Their  market  price  is  about  four  or.- live 
shillings  a  ton,  but  they  .stre  so  light  that  it  .would  take  half  a  dozen 
trucks  to  hold  a  ton.^They  formerly  buftit .them  for  the  sakt. of  the 
solder,' but  now,  by  a  new  process,  they  are  jointed  without  solder. 
The  problem  of  the  utilisation  of.  the  tins  is  one  to  which  we  would 
have  to  address  ourselves.*  and  I  am  by  no  mfeahsl  desponding  as  to 
the  result. 

I  see  in  the  old  tins"  of  London  at  least  ohe  means  of  establishing 
an  industry  which  is  at  present  almost  monopolised  by  our.  neigh- 
bours. .-Most  of  the  toys  which  are  sold  in  France  on  New  Year's 
Day  are. almost  entirely  made  of Vsa^dine  tins  collected-  in  the  JTrehch 
capitali^The  toy  market-bf  .England  is  ^at  present  :f^rrTrom  being 
QverstdckiEiy,  for  there, afe  multitudes  of  children>)vHb.have  no  toys 
.Vorth;:speaking  of  with  which  to  amuse  themselves.^  In  these «mpty 
tinS.I  see  a  means  of  employing  a  large  number  of  pejpplejn  turning 
out  cheap  toys  which  will, add,  a^ncw  joy  to^'the^hoUBehold^^ofithe 
poor — the  poor  to  whom  .every  farthing  is  irifportarit,  not  the  rich — 
the  rich  can  always  get  toys — but  the  children  of  .tbe  poor,  .who  live 
in  one  room  and  have  nothing  to  Jock: out  upbti  but  the  slunuor  the 
street.  .  These  desolate  little  things  nee.d  our.  toys,  and  if  supplied 
cheap  enough  they  will  take,  them  in  sufiffcient  quantities  to  make  it 
worth  wliile  to  manufacture  them 

A  whole  book  .might  be  written  concerning  the  utilisation  of  the 
waste  of  London.  But  1  am  not  going  to  write  one.  .^s. I  hope  before 
long  to  do  something  much  better  than  write  avb8«r,  nam*^y,j:to 
establish  all  organisation  to  utilise  the  Vtraste,  d^d  then  Tf^.I  dcfecribe 
what  is  being  done  it  will  be  much  better  than;  liy-tiow  explaining 
what  I  propose,  to- do.  '  But  there  is  one  ..more  waste  material  to 
which  it  is  necessary  to  allude.  L  refer  to  old^:new.~paperSviaftd 
magazines,  and  books. ^-f!  Newspapers  accumulate  in  our  houses-)\lntil 
wc  somctiraes-buro-thenvJarsheer  disp;ust.    Magazines  and  old  books 


! 

-;:ii 

'I'i;  i 

^1 /'•  '      •■ 

i 
i 

1; 
''i' 

1 

I     A 


M 


122 


Xjjg  JiP^gHOLp  SALVAQE   BRIQADE.V 


v-i/i...^- 


luTnlitr  our  shelves  undl  we '^hardly  know,  where  to  turn  to  put  a 
new  volume.  »>  My  Brigade  will  relieve  the  householder  from  these 
difficulties,  and  thereby  become  a  gp'eat  distributing  agency  of  cheap 
hterature.  After -the  magazine  has  done  its  duty  in  the  middle 
class  household  it  ca^i.  be  passed  on  to  the  reading-rooms,  work- 
houses, and  hospitals.  -  Every  publication  issued  from  the  Press 
that  is  of  the  slightest  use  to  men  and  women  will,  by  our  Scheme, 
acquire  a  double  share  of  usefulness.  It  will  be  read  first  by  its 
owner,  and  then  by  many  people  whp  would  never  otherwise  see  it 

We  shall  establish  an  immense  second-hand  book  shop.  All  the 
best  books  that  come  into  our  hands  will  be  exposed  for  sale,  not 
merely  at  our  central  depots,  but  on  the  barrows  of  our  peripatetic 
colporteurs,  who  will  go  from  street  to  street  with  literature  which, 
I  trust,  will  be  somewhat  superior  to  the  ordinary  pabulum  supplied 
to  the  poor.  After  we  have  sold  all  we  could,  and  given  away  all 
that  is  needed  to  public  institutions,  the  reiuainder  will  be  carried 
down  to  our  great  Paper  Mill,  of  which  we  shall  speak  later,  in 
connection  with  our  Farm  Colony. 

The  Household  Salvage  Brigade  will  constitute  an  agency  capable 
of  being  utilised  to  any  extent  for  the  distribution  of  parcels 
newspapers,  &c.  When  once  you  have  your' reliable  man  who  will 
call  at  every  house  with  the  regularity  of  a  postman,  and  go  his  beat 
with  the  punctuality  of  a  policeman,  you  can  do  great  things  with 
him.  I  do  not  need  to  elaborate  this  point.  It  will  be  a  universal 
Corps  of  Commissionaires,  created  foi-  the  service  of  the  public  and 
in  the  interests  of  the  poor,  which  will  bring  us  into  direct  relations 
with  every  family  in  London,  and  will  therefore  constitute  an 
unequalled  medium  for  the  distribution  of  advertisements  and  the 
collection  of  information. 

It  does  not  require  a  very  fertile  imagination  to  see  that  when 
such  a  house-to-house  visitation  is  regularly  established,  it  will 
develop  in  all  directions ;  add  working,  as  it  would,  in  connection 
with  our  Apti-sweating  Shops  and  Indystrial  Colpny,  woirfd  pxpbably 
soon  become  th<s  jmediup  (qr  negotiating  suoilry l^u%eholci  rtfUMrft, 
from  a  broken  wiij^oir  ta  a.  dairiage^  at^kifUKr    If  4t  ptPiter  were 

^»^  ^  ^E^^JWS^^il?f'9m''^9^^^  ^^!^f^  to  4p  ch5M3Pf ,  or  some 
one  to  a)eaiii^iif^ws^«riany;^t^r  odd  job,  the  ublqukous  Servant  of 
All  who  called  for  the  waste,  either  verbally  or  by  po9$Gard,~W0Cild  re- 
ceive the  order,  and  whoever  was  wanted  would  appear  at^th'e  time 
desired  without  any  further  trouble  on  the  part  of  the  householder. 


'rr; 


THT^UESTION^OF  COST/ 


123 


One  word  as  to  the  cost.^  There  are  five  hundred^thousan(iJntbuses 
in  the  Metropolitan  Police  district.  -  To  supply  every  house  with  a 
tub  and  a  sack  for  the  reception  of  waste  would  involve  an  initial  ex- 
penditure which  could  not  possibly  be  less  than  one  shilling  a  house. 
So  huge  is  London,  and  so  enormous  the  numbers  with  which  we  shall 
have  to  deal,  that  this  simple  preliminary  would  require  a  cost  of 
;^25,cxx>.  Of  course  I  do  not  propose  to  begin  on  anything  like  such 
a  vast  scale.  That  sum,  which  is  only  one  of  the  many  expenditures 
involved,  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  extent  of  the  operations  which 
the  Household  Salvage  Brigade  will  necessitate.  The  enterprise 
is  therefore  *beyond  the  reach  of  any  but  a  great  and  powerful 
organisation,  commanding  capital  and  able  to  secure  loyalty, 
disciplin<^  and  willing  service. 


<^ 


i 


■:.'t 


1 1- 


y 


Ispme 

Int  of 
id  re- 
time 


CHAPTER  III.  \^ 

TO  THE  COUNTRY  !~THE  FARM  COLONY. 

I  leave  on  one  side  for  a  moment  various  features  of  the  operations 
which  will  be  indispensable  but  subsidiary  to  the  City  Colony,  such 
as  the  Rescue  Homes  for  Lost  Women,  the  Retreats  for  Inebriates,  the 
Homes  for  Discharged  Prisoners,  the  Enquiry  Office  for  the  Discovery 
of  Lost  Friends  and  Relatives,  and  the  Advice  Bureau,  which  will,  in 
time,  become  an  institution  that  will  be  invaluable  as  a  poor  man's 
Tribune.  All  these  and  other  suggestions  for  saving  the  lost  and 
helping  the  poor,  although  they  form  essential  elements  of  the  City 
Colony,  will  be  better  dealt  with  after  I  have  explained  the  relation 
which  the  Farm  Colony  will  occupy  to  the  City  Colony,  and  set  forth 
the  way  in  which  the  former  will  act  as  a  feeder  to  the  Colony;,Over 
Sea. 

i  have  already  described  how  I  propose  to  deal,  in-  the  first 'ciase^ 
with  the  mass  of  surplus  labour  which  will  infallibly  accumulate  on 
our  hands  as  soon  as  the  Shelters  are  more  extensively  established 
and  in  good  working  order,  r.  But  I  fully  recognise .  that  when  all  has 
been  done  that  can  be  done  in  the  direction  of  disposing  of  the 
unhired  men  and  women  of  the  town,  there  ,will  still  remain  many 
whom  you  can  neither  employ  in  the  Household  Salvage 
Brigade,  nor  for  whom  employers,  be  they  registered  never  so  care-^ 
fulh ,  can  be  found.  What,  then,  must  be  done  witli  them  ?^>The 
answer  to  that  question  seems  to  me  obvious.  ..They  must  go  upon 
the  land  I 

The  land  is  the  source  of  all  food;  only  by  the  applicatidtt  tSf 
labour  can  the  land  be  made  fully  productive..  Th?re  is  any  amount 
of  waste  land  in  the  world,  not  far  away  in  distant XbftTinenls,  Jiext 

or  to  the  North  Pole,  but  here  at  our  very  doors.  ■  Have  you  ever 

'culated,  for  "  'ance,  the  square  miles^pf  unused  land  which  fdng|| 
'.  I  -  &  sides,  of  .all  our  railroads .?    No  doubt  some-embankments  are  oi 


Eiwpnwi 


•THE    LAND    IS    WO^TH '  CULtlVATtNG. 


»6S 


material  that  wouJdbafne"the-cultivating'''5killV«f?a  GhinQge  of  the 
careful.husbandry  of  a^Swiss  moyptajneer; .'but^thcse  are  je^ccptions; 
When- bther'ivpeople«;^al.k  of  reclaimingVS^li§bury  Pl^ic,  or  pf 
cultivating  the -bare iAnoo'rlands  of  the  rbiealc'  Tfprlh,  I  think- of  the 
hundreds  of  square  miles. of  lanc^  thatJie  in^.long'ribbons  on  the  side 
of  each  of^our;  railways,  upon  which,^withou^-any  cost  for  cartage, 
innumerable  tons  of  City  manure  could  be  shot' down,  and  the  crjops 
of  which  could  be  carried  at  once^to  the  nearest  market  without^iny 
but  the  initial  cost  r  of:  •-heaping<- into 'convenient -trucks.  Thc?.c 
railway  embankments*  constitute  a  vast  estate,  capable  of  growing 
fruit  enough  to  supply  all  the  jam  that  Crosse  and  Blackwell  ever 
boiled.  In.  almost  every  county  in  England  are  vacant'  farms,  and, 
in  still  greater  numbers,  farms  but  a  quarter  cultivated,  which  only 
need  the  application  of  an  industrious  population  v/orking  with  due 
incentive  to  produce  twicej  jfhrice,  and  four  times  as  much  as  they 
yield  to-day. 

I  am  aware-  that  there  are  few  subjects  upon  which  -  there  are 
such  fierce.  %controversies  as  'the  possibilities^  of  ^making-".- a  Jivjeii- 
hood  out  :i)f  smair^^lioldings,  '  but"  •  Irish  •4cottiers  -do'*it,'^"and 
in  '  regions  infinitely  worse  adapted  for  ;  the  purpose  than 
our  Essex  corn  lands,  and  possessing  none  of  the  advantages  which 
civilization  and  co-operation  place  at  the  command  of  an  intelligently 
directed  body  of  husbandmen.'  '  Talk  about  the  land  not  being  worth 
cultivating  !  Go  to  the  Swiss  Valleys  and  examine  for  j'ourself  the 
miserable  patches  of  land,  hewed  out  as  it  were  from  the  heart  of  the 
granite  mountains,  where  the  cottager  grows  his  crops  and  makes  a 
livelihood.  No  doubt  he  has  his  Alp,  where  his  cows  pasture  in 
summer-time,  and  his  other  occupations  which  enable  him  to  supplement 
the  scanty  yield  of  his^  farm  garden  among  the  crags;  but  if  it  pays 
the  Swiss  mountaineer  in  the  midst  of  the  eternal  snows,  far  removed 
iVom  any  marke!,  to  cultivate  such  miserable  soil  in  the  brief  summer, 
of  the  high  Alps,  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  Englishmen,  working 
on  English  soil,  close  to  our  rharkets  and  enjoying  all  the  advantages 
of  co-operation,  cannot  earn  their  daily  bread  by  their  daily  toil] 
The  soil  of  England  is  not  unkindly,  and  although  much  is  said 
against  our  climate,  it  is,  as  .Mr.  RusseH  Lowell  observes,  aftetf  a 
lengthened  experience  of  many  countries  and  many  climes,  "  the  besc 
climate  in  the  whole  world  for  the  labouring  man."  There  are  more 
days  in  the  English  year  on  which  a  man.  can  work  out-  nfi 
doors    with    a   spade,  with     comparative    comfort  than    in/'<9tiijf 


,:i 


1 1. 


!!■!■ 


126 


TO   THE   COUNTRY  l-THE    FARM    COLONY;^, 


otlier  country  under  heaven,  v  I  do  not  say  that  men  will  make  a 
fortune  out  of  the  land,  nor  do' I  pretend  that  we  can,  under  the  grey 
English  skies,  hope  ever  to  vie  with  the  productiveness  of  the  Jersey 
farms  ;  but  I  am  prepared  to  maintain  against  all  comers  that.^^it  is 
possible  for  an  industrious  man  to  grow  his  rations,  provided  he  is 
given  a  spade  with  which  to  dig  and  land  to  dig  in.^';  Especially 
WAf^this  be  the  case. with  intelligent  direction  and  the  advantagefs  of 
co-operation. 

Is  it  not  a  reasonable  supposition?  It  always  seems  tome  a 
strange  thing  that  men  should  insist  that  you  must  first  transport 
your  labourer  thousands  of  miles  to  a  desolate,  bleak  country  in 
order  to  set  him  to  work  to  extract  a  livelihood  from  the  soil  when 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  acres  lie  only  half  tilled  at  home  or  not 
tilled  at  all.  Is  it  reasonable  to  think  that  you  can  only  begin  to 
make  a  living  out  of  land  when  it  lies  several  thousand  miles  from 
the  nearest  market,  and  thoi^sands  of  miles  from  the  place  where  the 
labourer  has  to  buy  his  tools  and  procure  all  the  necessaries  of  life 
which  are  not  g^own  on  the  spot  ?  If  a  man  can  make  squatting 
pay  on  the  prairies  or  in  Australia,  where  every  quarter  of  grain 
which  he  produces  has  to  be  dragged  by  locomotives  across  the 
railways  jf  the  continent,  and  then  carried  by  steamers  across  the 
wide  ocean,  can  he  not  equally  make  the  operation  at  least  sufficiently 
profitable  to  keep  himself  alive  if  you  plant  him  with  the  same  soil 
within  an  hour  by  rail  of  the  greatest  markets  in  the  world  ? 

The  answer  to  this  is,  that  you  cannot  give  your  man  as  much 
soil  as  he  has  on  the  prairies  or  in  the  Canadian  lumber  lands. 
This,  no  doubt,  is  true,  but  the  squatter  who  settles  in  the  Canadian 
backwoods  does  not  clear  his  land  all  at  once.  He  lives  on  a  small 
portion  of  it,  and  goes  on  digging  and  delving  little  by  little,  until, 
after  many  years  of  Herculean  labour,  he  hews  out  for  himself,  and 
his  children  after  him,  a  freehold  estate.  Freehold  estates,  I  admit, 
are  not  to  be  had  for  the  picking  up  on  English  soil,  but  if  a  man 
will  but  work  in  England  as  they  work  in  Canada  or  in  Australia, 
he  will  find  as  little  difficulty  in  making  a  livelihood  here  as  there.    • 

I  may  be  wrong,  but  when  I  travel  abroad  and  see  the  desperate 
struggle  on  the  part  of  peasant  proprietors  and  the  small  holders  in 
mountainous  districts  for  an  additional  patch  of  soil,  the  idea  ot 
cuitivating  which  would  make  our  agricultural  labourers  turn  up  tbisir 
noses  in  speechless  contempt,  I  cannot  but  think  that  our  Enj^liish 
soil  could  carry  a  far  gi«ater  number  of  souls  to  the  acre  than 


THE    FARM    PROPER. 


127 


r 


which  it  bears  at  present.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  Essex  were 
fiu'^'denly  to  find  itself  unmoored  from  its  English  anchorage  and 
towed  across  the  Channel  to  Normandy,  or,  not  to  imagine  miracles, 
suppose  that  an  Armada  of  Chinese  were  to  make  a  descent  on  the 
Isle  of  Thanet,  as  did  the  sea-kings,  Hengist  and  Horsa,  does  any- 
one imagine  for  a  moment  that  Kent,  fertile  and  cultivated  as  it  is, 
would  not  be  regarded  as  a  very  Garden  of  rJden  out  of  the  odd 
corners  of  which  our  yellow-skinned  invaders  would  contrive  to 
extract  sufficient  to  keep  themselves  in  sturdy  health  ?  I  only 
suggest  the  possibility  in  order  to  bring  out  clearly  the  fact  that  the 
difficulty  is  not  in  the  soil  nor  in  the  climate,  but  in  the  lack  of 
application  of  sufficient  labour  to  sufficient  land  in  ,  the  truly 
scientific  way. 

"  What  is  the  scientific  way  ?  "  I  shall  be  asked  impatiently.  I 
am  not  an  agriculturist ;  I  do  not  dogmatize.  I  have  read  much 
from  many  pens,  and  have  noted  the  experiences  of  many  colonies, 
and  I  have  learned  the  lesson  that  it  is  in  the  school  of  practical 
labour  that  the  most  valuable  knowledge  is  to  be  obtained. 
Nevertheless,  the  bulk  of  my  proposals  are  based  upon  the 
experience  of  many  who  have  devoted  their  lives  to  the  study  of 
the  subject,  and  have  been  endorsed  by  specialists  whose  experience 
gives  them  authority  to  speak  with  unquestioning  confidence. 


much 

lands. 

ladian 

small 

|until, 

",  and 

[dmit, 

man 

[ralia, 

ire.    ' 

[erate 

's  in 

la  ot 

their 

iHsh 


M' 


SlCTiON  1.— THE  FARM  PROPER. 

My  present  idea  is  to  take  an  estate  from  five  hundred  to  a 
thousand  acres  within  reasonable  distance  of  London.  It  should  be  of 
such  land  as  will  be  suitable  for  market  gardening,  while  having  some 
clay  on  it  for  brick-making  and  for  crops  requiring  a  heavier  soil. 
If  possible,  it  should  not  only  be  on  a  line  of  railway  which  is 
managed  by  intelligent  and  progressive  directors,  but  it  should  have 
access  to  the  sea  and  to  the  river.  It  should  be  freehold  land,  and 
it  should  lie  at  some  considerable  distance  from  any  town  or  village. 
The  reason  for  the  latter  desideratum  is  obvious.  We  must  be  near 
London  for  the  sake  of  our  market  and  for  the  transmission  of  the 
commodities  collected  by  our  Household  Salvage  Brigade,  but  it 
must  be  some  little  distance  from  any  town  or  village  in  order 
that  the  Colony  may  be  planted  clear  out  in  the  open  away  from  the 
public  house,  that  upas  tree  of  civilisation.  A  sine  qud  non  o(  the 
new  Farm  Colony  is  that  no  intoxicating  liquors  will  be  permitted 
within  its  confines  on  any  pretext  whatever.  The ''doctors  will  have 
to  prescribe  some  other  stimulant  than  alcohol  for  residents  in  this 
Colony.  But  it  will  be  little  use  excluding  alcohol  with  a  strong 
Kand  and  by  cast-«ron  regulations  if  the  Colonists  have  only  to  take 
d  short  walk  in  order  to  find  themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  "  Red 
I-ions,"  and  the  "  Blue  Dragons,"  and  the  "  George  the  Fourths," 
which  abound  in  every  country  town. 

Having  obtained  the  land  I  should  proceed  to  prepare  it  for  the 
Colonists.  This  is  an  operation  which  is  essentially  the  same  in  any 
country.  You  need  water  supply,  provisions  and  shelter.  /^AU 
this  would  be  done  at  first  in  the  simplest  possible  style.  Our 
pioneer  brigade,  carefully  selected  from  the  competent  Out-of-Works 
in  the  City  Colony,  would  be  sent  down  to  lay  out  the  estate  and 
prepare  it  for  those  who  would  come  after.  :-'^"  And  here  let  me  say 
that  it  is  a  great  delusion  to  imagine  that  in  the  riffraff  and  waste  of 
the  labour  market  there  are  no  workmen  to  be  had  except  those  that 
are  worthless.  Worthless  under  the  present  conditions,  exposed  to 
constant  J  temptations  to  intemperance  no  doubt  they  are,  but  some  of 
the  brightest  merv  in  London,  with  some  of  the  smartest  pairs  of 
hands,  and  the  <:levcpcsH  brains,  are  at  the  present  moment  weltering 
hclpiessljyni^{he_  sludge^^^pm  which  zwe  propose  to  (.rescue  .them. 


'r* 


IN-"PRAI3E"'OF 


TOMMY  ^ATKfMS; 


fr^ 


■tias{ 


■**-• 


the 
any 
•'AU 
Our 
orks 
and 
say 
e  of 
that 
d  to 
of 
s  of 
|ring 
iem. 


1  am  .not  .speaking  \vithout  book  ib  this  nutttef^  iSome  of  my.  beV6 
Officers  to-day  have  been  even  such  ^as  ^y.  Inhere  it  ait  infinite! 
potentiality  of  capacity  lymg  Jatent  in  our  Provincial  Tap-rooms 
and  the  City  Gin  Palaces  if  you  can  but  get  them  soundly  sayedj. 
and  even  short  of  that,  if  you  can  place  them  in  conditions  where 
they  would  no  longer  be  liable  to  be  sucked  back  into,  their  old 
disastrous  habits,  you  may  do  great  things  with  them. 

I  can  well  imagine  the  incredulous  laughter  which  will  greet  "my 
proposal.  "What,"  it  will  be  said,  "do  you  think  that  you  can 
create  agricultural  pioneers  out  of  the  scum  of  Cockneydom  ?  "  Let 
us  look  for  a  moment  at  the  ingredients  which  make  up  what  you 
call  "  the  scum  of  Cockneydom."  After  careful  examination  and 
close  cross-questioning  of  the  Out-of- Works,  whom  we  have  already 
registered  at  our  Labour  Bureau,  we  find  that  at  least  sixty  per  cent; 
are  country  folk,  men,  women,  boys,  and  girls,  who  have  left  theiii 
homes  in  the  counties  to  come  up  to  town  in  the  hope  of  bettering 
themselves.  They  are  in  no  sense  of  the  word  Cockneys,  and  they 
represent  not  the  dregs  °ot  the  country  but  rather  its  brighter  and 
more  adventurous  spirits  who  have  boldly  tried  to  make  their  way 
in  new  and  uncongenial  spheres  and  have  terribly  come  to  grief.  Of 
thirty  cases,  selected  haphazard,  in  the  various  Shelters  during  the 
week  ending  July  5th,  1890,  twenty-two  were  country-born,  sixteen 
were  men  who  had  come  up  a  long  time  ago,  but  did  not  ever  seem 
lo  have  settled  to  regular  employ,  and  four  were  old  military  men. 
Of.  sixty  cases  examined  into  ."it  the  Bureau  and  Shelters  during  the 
fortnight  ending  August  2nd,  forty-two  were  country  people ;  twenty- 
six  men  who  had  been  in  London  for  various  periods,  ranging  from 
six  months  to  four  years ;  nine  were  lads  under  eighteen,  who  had 
run  away  from  home  and  come  up  to  town ;  while  four  were 
ex-military.  Of  eighty-five  cases  of  dossers  who  were  spoken  to  at 
night  when  they  slept  in  the  streets,  sixty-three  were  country  people. 
A  very  small  proportion  of  the  genuine  homeless  Out-of-Works  are 
Londoners  bred  and  born. 

There  is  another  element  in  the  matter,  the  existence  of  which 
will  be  news  to  most  people,  and  that  is  the  large  proportion  of 
ex-military  men  who  are  among  the  helpless,  hopeless  destitute.! 
Mr.  Arnold  White,  after  spending  many  months  in  the  streets  of 
London  interrogating  more  fhan  four  thousand  men  whom  he  found 
in  the  course  of  one  bleak  winter  sleeping  out  of  doors  like  animals 
returns  it  as  his^  conviction  that  at  least  20  per  ..cent.  ^  are.  Army 


^    !■: 


'130 


THE' FARM 'PftOPER. 


■■>»■ 


Reserve  men.-.' Twenty  per  cent  iVThat  is  to  say  one  man  in  every 
five  with  whom  Sve.  shall  have  to  deal  has  served  Her  Majesty  the 
Queen  under  the  colours.  .  This  is  the  resource  to  which  these  poor 
fellows  come  after  they  have  given  the  f>rime  of  their  lives  to  the 
service  of  their  country.  ^  Although  this  may  be  largely  brought  about 
by  their  own  '  thriftless  and  evil  conduct,  .it  is  a  scandal  and  dis- 
grace which  may  well  make  the  check  of  the  patriot  tingle.  Still, 
I  see  in  it  a  great  resource.  '  A  man  who  has  been  in  the  Queen's 
Army  is  a '  man  who  has  learnt  to  obey.  -  He  is  further  a  man 
who  has  been  taught  in  the  roughest  of  rough  schools  to  be  handy 
and  smart,  to  make  the  best  of  the  roughest  fare,  and  not  to  consider 
himself  a  martyr  if  he  is' sent  on  a  forlorn  hope.  I  often  say  if  we 
could  only  get  Christians  to 'have  one-hair  of  the  practical  devotion 
and  sense  of  duty  that  animates  even  the  commonest  Tommy  Atkins 
what  a  change  would  be  brought  about  in  the  world  ! 

Look  at  poor  Tommy !  ^'*A  country  lad  who  gets  himself  into  some 
scrape,  runs  away  from  home,  finds  himself  sinking  lower  and  lower, 
vyjlh  no  hope  of  employment,  no  friends  to  advise  him,  and  no  one  to 
give  him' a  helping  hand.il^Ih  shedr.'despair  he  takes  the  Queen's 
shilling  and  enters  the  ranks. 'He  is  handed  over  to  an  inexorable 
drill  sergeant,  he  is  compelled  to  room  in' barracks  j,' where  privacy 
is  unknown,  to  mix  with  men,  many 'of  them  vicious,^  few  .  of  them 
companions  whom.he  would  of  his- own  ^choice  select.  '  He  gets  his 
rations,  and  although  he  is  told;  he  will -get  a '^shilling  a  day,  there 
are  so  many  stoppages' that  he  often  does  not -finger  a  shiHing  a 
week.'f"  He  is  drilled  and  worked  and  ordered  hither  and  thither  as 
if  he 'were  a  machine,  all  of  which  he  takes  cheerfully,  without  even 
considering  that  there  is  any  hardship  in  his  lot,  plodding  on  in  a 
dull,  stolid  kind  of  way  for  his  Queen  and  his  country,  doing  his 
best,  also,  poor  chap,  to  be  proud  of  his  red  uniform,  and  to  cultivate 
his  self-respect  by  reflecting  that  he  is  one  ^  of  the  ■  defenders  of  his 
native  land,  one  of  the  heroes  upon  whose  .  courage  and  endurance 
depends. the  safety  of  the  British  realm. 

Some; fine  day  at  the  other- end  of  the  v;orld  some  prancing 
pro-consul '-'finds  it  necessary  to  smash  one  of  the  man-slaying 
machines  >  that  loom  ominous  on  his  borders,  or  some  savage 
potentate  makes  an  incursion  into  territory  of  a  British  colony,  or 
some  fierce  outburst  of.  Mahommedan  fanaticism  raises  up  a  Mahd* 
in  mid-Africa.  In  a  moment  Tommy  Atkins  is  marched  off  to  the 
troop-ship,    and   swept  across  the  seas,  heart-sick  r  and  sea-sick^ 


w 


THE    SETTLERS   ON    THE    FARM. 


131 


:ing 
Mng 

rage 
or 

the 


nnd  miserable  exceedingly,  to  fight  the  Queen's  enemies  in  foreign 
parts.     When  he  arrives  there  he  is  bundled  ashore,  brigaded  wiiK 
other  troops,  marched  to  the  front  ihrougli  the  blistering  glare  of  a 
tropical  sun  over  poisonous  marshes  in  which  his  comrades  sicken 
and  die,  until  at  last  he  is  drawn  up  in  square  to  receive  the  charge 
of  tens  of  thousands  of  ferocious  savages.     P'ar  away   from    all 
who  love  him  or  care  for  him,  foot-sore  and  travel  weary,  having 
eaten  perhaps  but  a  piece  of  dry  bread  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours, 
he  must  stand  up  and  kill  or  be  killed.     Often  he  falls  beneath  the 
thrust  of  an  assegai  or  the  slashing  broadsword  of-  the  charging 
enemy.     Then,  after  the  fight  is  over  his  comrades  turn  up  the  sod 
where  he  lies,  bundle   his    poor  bones    into    the  shallow  pit,  and 
leave  him  without  even  a  cross  to  mark  his  solitary  grave.     Perhaps 
he   is  fortunate   and    escapes.     Yet  Tommy  goes   uncomplainingly 
through  all  tlicse  hardships  and  privations,  docs  not  think  himself 
a  martyr,  takes  no  fine  airs  about  what  lie  has  done  and  suffered, 
and  shrinks  uncomplainingly  into  our  Slicltcrs  and  our  Factories, 
only   asking   as    a    benediction    from    heaven    that    someone   will 
r.;ive  him  an   honest  job  of  work  to  do.  '  That  is  the  fate  of  Tommy 
Atkins.     If  in  our  churches  and  chapels  as  much  as '  one  single 
individual  were  to  bear  and  dare,  for  the  benefit  of  his  kind  and  the 
salvation  of  men,  what  a  hundred  thousand  Tommy  Atkins'  bear 
untomplainingly,  taking  it  all  as  if  it  were  in  the  day's  work,  for  their 
rations  and  their  shilling  a  day  (with  stoppages),   think  you  we 
should  not  transform  the  whole  face  of  the  world  ?     Yea,  verily. 
We  find  but  very  little  of  such  devotion  ;  no,  not  in  Israel. 

I  look  forward  to  making  great  use  of  these  Army  Reserve  men. 
There  are  engineers  amongst  them  ;  there  are  artillery  men  and 
infantry  ;  there  are  cavalry  men,  who  know  what  a  horse  needs  to 
keep  him  in  good  health,  and  men  of  the  transport  department,  for 
v>^hom  I  shall  find  work  enough  to  do  in  the  transference  of  the 
multitudinous  waste  of  London  from  our  town  Depots  to  the  outlying 
Farm.     This,  however,  is  a  digression,  by  the  way. 

After  having  got  the  Farm  into  some  kind  of  ship-shape,  we  should 
select  from  the  City  Colonies  all  those  who  were  likely  to  be 
successful  as  our  first  settlers. '''  These  would  consist  of  men  who 
had  been  working  so  many  weeks  or  days  in  the  Labour  Factory,  or 
had  been  under  observation  for  a  reasonable  time  at  the  Shelters 
or  io  the  Slums,  and  who  had  given  evidence  of  their  willingness  to 
.work,  their  amenity  to  discipline,  and  their  a.  ii>ition  to  improve 


I       I 


132 


THE, FARM    PROPER. 


.-*••  •  •«' 


themselves.  On  arrival  at  the  Farm  they  would  be  installed  in  a 
harraoks,  and  at  once  told  off  to  work.  In  winter  time  there  wouM 
be  draining,  and  road-making,  and  fencing,  and  many  other  forms  of 
industry  which  could  go  on  when  the  days  are  short  and  the  nights 
are  long.  In  Spring,  Summertime  and  Autumn,  some  would  be 
employed  on  the  land,  chiefly  in  spade  husbandry,  upon  what  is 
called  the  system  of  "  intensive  "  agriculture,  such  as  prevails  in 
the  suburbs  of  Pans,  where  the  market  gardeners  literally  create 
the  soil,  and  which  yields  much  greater  results  than  when  yoi' 
merely  scratch  the  surface  with  a  plough. 

Our  Farm,  I  hope,  would  be  as  productive  as  a  great  market  garden 
There  would  be  a  Superintendent  on  the  Colony,  who  would  be 
a  practical  gardener,  familiar  with  the  best  methods  of  small 
agriculture,  and  everything  that  science  and  experience  shows  to  be 
needful  for  the  profitable  treatment  of  the  land.  Then  there  would 
be  various  other  forms  of  industry  continually  in  progress,  so  that 
employment  could  be  furnished,  adapted  to  the  capacity  and  skill  of 
every  Colonist.  Where  farm  buildings  are  wr.nted,  the  Colonists  must 
erect  them  themselves.  If  they  want  glass  houses,  they  must  put 
them  up.  Everything  on  the  Estate  must  be  the  production  of  the 
Co'onists.  Take,  for  instance,  the  building  of  cottages.  After  the 
first  detachment  has  settled  dovv-n  into  its  quarters  and  brought  the 
fields  somewhat  into  cultivation,  there  will  arise  a  demand  for 
houses.  These  houses  must  be  built,  and  the  bricks  made  by  the 
Colonists  themselves.  AH  the  crapcntcring  and  the  joinery  will  be 
done  on  the  premises,  and  by  this  means  a  sustained  demand  for 
work  will  be  created.  Then  there  would  be  furniture,  clothing,,  and 
a  great  many  other  wants,  the  supply  of  the  whole  of  which  would 
create  labou-  which  the  Colonists  must  perform. 

For  a  long  time  to  come  the  Salvation  Army  will  be  able  to  con- 
sume all  the  vegetables  and  crops  which  the  Colonici  will  produce 
That  is  one  advantage  of  being  connected  with  so  great  and  groov- 
ing a  concern ;  the  right  hand  will  help  the  Itft,  and  we  shall  lie 
able  to  do  many  things  which  those  who  devote  themselves  ex- 
clusively to  colonisation  would  find  it  impossible  to  accomplish. 
We  have  seen  the  large  quantities  of  provisions  which  are  required 
to  supply  the  Food  Depots  in  their  present  dimensions,  and  with  the 
coming  extensions  the  consumption  will  be  enormously  augmented. 

On  this  Farm  I  propose  to  carry  on  Qveiy  description  oi  "  little 
agriculture..' 


«■ 


I'C 
L'C- 

Ih. 
id 
;c 

tie 


A    TRAINING    SCHOOL    FOR    EMIGRANTS. 


133 


I  have  not  yet  relcrred  to  the  female  »id<»  of  our  operations,  but 
have  reserved  them  for  another  chapter.  U  is  necessary,  Iiowcvcr, 
lo  bring  them  in  here  in  order  to  explain  that  employment  will  be 
created  for  women  as  well  as  men  Fruit  farming  affords  a  great 
opening  for  female  labour,  and  it  will  indeed  be  a  change  as 
from  Tophct  to  the  Garden  of  Rden  when  the  poor  lost  girls  on  the 
streets  of  London  exchange  the  pavements  of  Piccadilly  for  tiic  straw- 
berry beds  of  Essex  or  Kent. 

Not  only  will  vegetables  and  fruit  of  every  description  he  raised, 
nut  I  think  that  a  g^-cat  deal  might  be  done  in  tl>c  smaller  aujuncts  ol 
the  Farm. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  amongst  the  mass  ot  people  with  whom  wc 
have  to  deal  tliere  will  be  a  residual  remnant  of  persons  lo  some 
extent  mentally  infirm  or  physically  incapacitated  from  engaging  in 
tlic  harder  toils.  For  these  people  it  is  necessary  to  find  work,  and 
i  think  there  would  be  a  good  field  for  tneir  benumbed  energies 
in  looking  after  rabbits,  feeding  poultry,  minding  bees,  and,  in  short 
doing  all  tliosc  little  odd  jobs  about  a  place  which  must  be  attended 
to,  but  which  will  not  repay  the  lal our  of  able-bodied  men. 

One  advantage  of  the  cosmopolitan  nature  of  the  Army  is  that 
we  have  Officers  in  almost  every  country  in  the  world.  When  this 
Scheme  is  well  on  the  way  every  Salvation  Officer  in  every  land  will 
have  it  imposed  upon  him  as  one  of  the  duties  of  hii  calling  to  keep 
his  eyes  open  for  every  useful  notion  and  every  conceivable  con- 
trivance for  increasing  the  yield  of  the  soil  and  utilising  the  employ- 
ment of  waste  labour.  Ky  this  means  I  hope  that  there  will  not  be 
an  idea  in  the  world  which  will  not  be  made  available  for  oui 
Scheme.  If  an  Officer  in  Sweden  can  give  us  practical  bints  as  lo 
how  they  manage  food  kitchens  for  the  people,  or  an  Officer  in  the 
South  of  France  can  explain  how  the  peasants  arc  able  to  rear  eggs 
and  poultry  not  only  for  their  own  ljc,  but  so  as  to  he  able  to 
c.xpor,  them  by  the  million  to  England  :  if  a  Sergeant  in  Belgium 
understands  how  it  is  t!.at  the  rabbit  farmers  there  can  feed  and  fatten 
and  supply  our  market  with  millions  of  rabbits  wc  shall  hayC  him 
over,  tap  his  brains,  and  set  him  to  work  to  benefit  our  people.' 

By  the  establishment  of  tliis  Farm  Colony  wc  should  create  a  grcal 
school  of  technical  agricultural  education.  It  would  be  a  Working 
Men's  Agricultural  University,  training  people  for  the  life  which  they 
would  have  to  lead  in  the  new  countries  thoy  will  go  forth  lo  colonise 
>lind  ^possess.  ^ 


I    •! 


''. 


134 


THE    FARM    PROPER. 


Every  man  who  goes  to  our  Farm  Colon}'  docs  so,  not  to  acquire 
his  fortune,  but  to  obtain  a  knv.'vlcdge  of  an  occupation  and  that 
mastery  of  his  tools  which  will  enable  him  to  play  his  part  in  the 
battle  of  life.  He  will  be  provided  with  a  cheap  uniform,  which  wc 
shall  find  no  difficulty  in  rigging  up  from  the  old  clothes  of  London, 
and  it  will  go  hardly  with  us,  and  we  shall  have  worse  luck  than  the 
ordinary  market  gardener,  if  we  do  not  succeed  in  making  sutticieiU 
profit  to  pay  all  the  expenses  of  the  concern,  and  leave  something 
over  for  the  maintenance  of  the  hopelessly  incompetent,  and  those 
who,  to  put  it  roughly,  arc  not  worth  their  keep. 

Every  person  in  the  Farm  Colony  will  be  taught  the  elementary 
lesson  of  obedience,  and  will  be  instructed  m  the  needful  arts  ot 
husbandry,  or  seme  other  method  of  earning  his  bread.  Tiic 
Agricultural  Se.tion  will  learn  the  lesson  of  the  seasons  and  of  the 
best  kind  of  seeds  a^id  plants.  Those  belonging  to  thiji  Section  will 
learn  how  to  hedge  and  ditch,  how  to  make  roads  and  build  bridges, 
and  generally  to  subdue  the  earth  and  make  it  yield  to  him  the  riches 
which  it  never  withholds  from  the  industrious  and  skilful  workman. 
But  the  Farm  Colony,  any  more  than  the  City  Colon},  although  an 
abiding  institution,  will  not  provide  permanently  for  those  with  whom 
we  have  to  deal.  It  is  a  Training  School  for  Emigrants,  a  place 
where  those  .dispensably  practical  lessons  arc  given  which  will  enable 
the  Colonists  to  know  their  way  about  and  to  feel  themselves  at  hon«c 
wherever  there  is  land  to  till,  stock  to  rear,  anu  harvests  to  reap. 
We  shall  rel}'  greatly  for  the  peace  nnd  prosperity  of  the  Colony 
upon  the  sense  of  brotherhood  which  will  be  universal  in  it  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest.  While  there  will  be  no  systematic  wage- 
paying  there  will  be  some  sort  of  rewards  and  remuneration  for 
honest  industr},  '-hich  will  be  stored  up,  for  his  benefit,  as  after- 
wards explained.  They  wiP  in  the  main  work  each  for  all,  and, 
the»\.iore,  the  needs  of  all  will  be  supplied,  and  any  overplus  will  go  to 
make  the  bridge  o\er  which  any  poor  fcHow  may  escape  from  the 
horrible  pit  and  the  nury  c»ay  from  which  they  themselves  have  been 
rescued. 

The  dulncss  and  deadness  of  country  life,  especially  in  the 
Colonies,  leads  man}  men  to  prefer  a  life  of  hardi»hip  and  privation 
in  a  City  slum.  But  in  our  Colony  they  would  be  near  to  each  other, 
and  would  enjoy  the  advantages  of  country  life  and  the  association 
land  companionship  of  life  in  town. 


•ml^ 


.^"  ■ 


n 


Section  2.— THE  INDUSTRIAL  VILLAGE. 


1'     I. 


ic 
n 

f 
Ml 


In  describing  the  operations  of  the  Household  Salvage  Brigade 
I  have  referred  to  the  enormous  quantities  of  good  sound  food  whicli 
would  be  collected  from  door  to  door  every  day  of  the  year.  Much 
of  this  food  would  be  suitable  for  human  consumption,  its  waste 
being  next  door  to  sinful.  Imagine,  for  instance,  the  quantities  of 
soup  which  might  be  made  from  boiling  the  good  fresh  meaty  bones 
'>♦"  the  great  City  I  Think  of  the  dainty  dishes  which  a  French  cook 
'  '  "u  be  able  to  serve  up  from  the  scraps  and  odds  and  ends  of  a 
single  West  End  kitchen.  Good  cookery  is  not  an  extravagance 
but  an  economy,  and  many  a  tasty  dish  is  made  by  our  Continental 
friends  out  o£  materials  which  would  be  discarded  indignantly  by  the 
poorest  tramp  in  Whitechapel. 

But  after  all  that  is  done  there  will  remain  a  mass  of  food  which 
cannot  be  eaten  by  man,  but  can  be  converted  into  food  for  him 
by  the  simple  process  of  passing  it  through  another  digestive 
apparatus.  The  old  bread  of  London,  the  soiled,  stale  crusts  can  be 
used  in  foddering  the  horses  which  are  employed  in  collecting  the 
waste.  It  will  help  to  feed  the  rabbits,  whose  hutches  will  be. close 
by  every  o'iage  on  the  estate,  and  the  hens  of  the  Colony  will 
flourish  r,.y  hf  crumbs  which  fall  from  the  table  of  Dives.  "  But  after 
the  hoi  a:  j/d  he  rabbits  and  poultry  have  been  served,  there  will 
remain  a  res  d  ivra  of  eatable  matter,  which  can  only  be  profitably 
disposed  of  to  the  voracious  and  necessary  pig.  I  foresee  the  rise  of 
a  piggery  in  connection  with  the  new  Social  Scheme,  which  will  dwarf 
into  insignificance  all  that  exist  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland. ;.:  V/e 
have  the  advantage  of  the  experience  cf  the  whole  world  as  to  the 
choice  of  breeds,  the  construction  of  sties,  and  the  rearing  of  stock. 
,We  shall  have  the  major  part  of  our  food  practically  for  the' cost  of 
collect- O.J,  and  be  able  to  adopt  all  the  latest  methods  of, Chicago^ for 
^he.. kiltiig,^ _cuiing,^and_ disppsing^pf  our . pork,j. ham,;l.*rMlIbaconJ 


1 '  'i 

;     r, 


\v 


'f  .     ■ 


f.: 


136 


THE    INDUSTRIAL    VILLAGE. 


There  are  few  animals  more  useful  than  the  pig.  >  He  will  eat  any- 
thing, live  anywhere,  and  almost  every  particle  of  Inni,  from  the  tip 
of  his  nose  to  the  end  of  his  tail,  is  capable  of  being  converted  into 
a  saleable  commodity.  Your  pig  also  is  a  great  producer  of  m:inure, 
and  agriculture  's  after  all  largely  a  matter  of  manure.  Treat  the 
land  well  and  it  will  treat  you  well.  With  our  piggery  in  connection 
with  our  Farm  Colony  there  would  be  no  lack  of  manure. 

With  the  piggerj  there  would  g^ow  up  a  great  bacon  factory  for 
curing,  and  that  again  would  make  more  work.  Then  as  for 
sausages  they  would  be  produced  literally  by  the  mile,  and  aH  made 
of  the  best  meat  instead  of  bemg  manufactured  out  of  the  very 
objectionable  ingredients  too  often  stowed  away  in  that  poor  man's 
favourite  ration. 

Food,  however,  is  only  one  of  the  materials  which  will  be 
collected  by  the  Household  Sah,  ;s;e  Brigade.  The  barges  which 
float  down  the  river  with  the  tide,  .j  o  the  brim  with  the  cast-oflf 

waste  of  half  a  million  homes,  Wi*  bring  down  an  enormous 
quantity  of  material  which  cannot  be  eaten  even  by  pigs.  There 
will  be,  for  instance,  the  old  bones.  At  present  it  pays  speculators 
to  go  to  the  prairies  of  America  and  gather  up  the  bleached  bones 
of  the  dead  buffaloes,  in  order  to  make  manure.  It  pays  manu- 
facturers \o  bring  bones  from  the  end  of  the  earth  in  order  to  grind 
them  up  for  use  on  our  fields.  But  the  waste  bones  of  London ;  who 
collects  them  ?  I  see.  us  in  a  vision,  barge  loads  upon  barge  loads 
of  bones  floating  down  the  Thames  to  the  great  Bone  Factory. 
Some  of  the  best  will  yield  materiat  for  knife  handles  and  buttons; 
and  the  numberless  articles  which  will  afford  ample  opportunity  an 
the  long  winter  evenings  for  the  acquisition  of  skill  on  the  part  of 
our  Colonist  ear,VErs,  while  the  rest  will  go  straight  to  the  Manure  Mill. 
There  will  be  a  constant  demand  for  manure  on  the  part  of  bur 
ever-increasing  nests  of  new  Colonies  and  our  Co-operative  Farm," 
every  man  in  which  will  be  educated  in  the  great  doctrine  thatuhere 
is  no  good  agriculture  without  liberal  manuring.  And  here  will  be 
an  unfailing  source  of  supply. 

Among  the  material  which  comes  down  will  be  an  immense 
quantity  of  greasy  matter,  bits  of  fat,  suet  and*ilard,  tallow,  strong 
butter,  and  all  tl?e  rancid  fat  of  a  great  city,  ^t^ For  all  that  we  shall 
have;to  find  use. ;r  The, best  of  it  will  make  waggon  grease,  the 
rest,after  due  boiling  and  straining,  will  form  the  nucleus  of  the  raw 
itnatcrial  which  will  make  our  Social  Soap  a  household  word  through-. 


m 


"V 


GOVERNMENT  OF  COLONISTS. 


137 


out  the  kingdom.     Aiicr  the  Manure  Works,  tlje  Scan  Factory  will  be 
the  natural  adjunct  of  our  operations. 

The  fourth  great  output  of  the  daily  waste  of  London  will  be  waste 
paper  and  rags,  which,  after  being  chemically  treated,  and  duly 
manipulated  by  rr  'hinery,  will  be  re-issued  to  the  world  in  the 
shape  of  paper.  1  iie  Salvation  Army  consumes  no  less  than  thirty 
tons  of  paper  every  week.  Here,  therefore,  would  be  one  customer 
for  as  much  paper  as  the  new  mill  would  be  able  to  turn  oCit  at  the 
onset ;  paper  on  which  we  could  print  the  glad  tidings  of  great  joy, 
and  tell  the  poor  of  all  nations  the  news  of  salvation  for  earth  and 
Heaven,  full,  present,  and  free  to  all  the  children  of  men. 

Then  comes  the  tin.  It  will  go  hard  with  us  if  we  cannot  find 
some  way  of  utilizing  these  tins,  whether  we  make  them  into  flower- 
pots with  a  coat  of  enamel,  or  convert  them  into  ornaments,  or  cut 
them  up  for  toys  or  some  other  purpose.  My  officers  have  been 
instructed  to  make  an  exhaustive  report  on  the  way  the  refuse 
collectors  of  Paris  deal  with  the  sardine  tins.  The  industry  of 
making  tin  toys  will  be  one  which  can  be  practised  better  in  the  Farm 
Colony  than  in  the  City.  If  necessary,  we  shall  bring  an  accomplished 
workman  from  France,  who  will  teach  our  people  the  way  of  dealing 
with  the  tin. 

In  connection  with  all  this  it  is  obvious  there  would  be  a  constant 
demand  for  packing  cases,  for  tv/ine,  rope,  and  for  boxes  of  all  kinds ; 
for  carts  and  cars ;  and,  in  short,  we  should  before  long  have 
a  complete  community  practising  almost  all  the  trades  that  are 
to  be  found  in  London,  except  the  keeping  of  grog  shops,  the  whole 
being  worked  upon  co-operative  principles,  but  co-operation  not  for 
the  benefit  of  the  individual  co-operator,  but  for  the  benefit  of  the 
:;unken  mass  that  lies  behind  it. 

RULES  AND  REGULATIONS  FOR  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF 

COLONISTS. 
A  documcut  containing  the  Orders  and  Regulations  for  the  Government  ot 
the  Colony  must  be  approx'ed  and  signed  by  every  Colonist  before  admission. 
Amongst  other  things  there  will  be  the  following : — 

1.  All  Officers  must  be  treated  respectfully  and  implicitly  obeyed. 

2.  The  use  of  intoxicant^s  strictly  prohibited,  none  being  allowed  within  its 
borders.  Any  Colonist  guilty  of  violating  this  Order  to  be  expelled,  and  that  on 
the  first  offence. 

3.  Expulsion  for  drunkeoDess,  dishonesty,  or  falsehood  will  follow  the  third 
ofTence* 


I ' 


■■■•■; 


■'.'(■ 


138' 


THE    INDUSTRIAL  VILLAGE. 


4.  Profane  language  strictly  forbidden. 
'  5.  No  cruelty  to  be  practised  on  man,  woman,  child,  or  animal 
,'  6.  Serious  offenders  against  the  virtue  of  women,  or  of  children  of  either  sex, 
to  incur  immediate  expulsion. 

^  7.  After  a  certain  period  of  probation,  and  a  considerable  amount  of  patience, 
all  who  will  not  work  to  be  expelled. 

i  S.  The  decision  of  the  Governor  of  the  Colony,  whether  in  the  City,  or  the 
Farnj,  or  Over  the  Sea,  to  be  binding  in  all  cases.  -    . 

^  9.  With  respect  to  penalties,  the  following  rules  will  be  acted  upon.  The 
chief  reliance  for  the  maintenance  of  order,  as  has  been  observed  before,  will  be 
placed  upon  the  spirit  ot  love  which  will  prevail  throughout  the  community. 
But  as  it  cannot  be  expected  to  be  universally  successful,  certain  penalties  will 
have  to  be  provided  : — 

(a)  First  offences,  except  in  flagrant  cases,  will  be  recorded. 

(b)  The  second  offence  will  be  published. 

(c/  The  third  offence  will  incur  expulsion  or  being  handed  over  to 
the  authorities.  -    '         '      " 

Other  regulations  will  be  necessary  as  the  ScTifflne  develops.  , 

There  will  be  no  attempt  to  enforce  upon  the  Colonists  the  rules 
and  regulations  to  which  Salvation  Soldiers  are  subjected.  Those 
who  are  soundly  saved  and  who  of  their  own  free  will  desire  to  become 
Salvationists  will,  of  course,  be  subjected  to  the  rules  of  the  Service. 
But  Colonists  who  are  willing  to  work  and  obey  the  orders  of  the 
Commanding  Officer  will  only  be  subject  to  the  foregoing  and  similar 
regulations  ;  in  all  other  things  they  will  be  left  free. 

For  instance,  there  will  be  no  objection  to  field  recreations  or  any 
outdoor  exercises,  which  conduce  to  the  maintenance  of  health  and 
spirits.  A  reading  room  and  a  library  will  be  provided,  together  with 
a  hall,  in  which  they  can  amuse  themselves  in  the  long  winter  nights 
and  in  unfavourable  weather.  These  things  are  not  for  the  Salva- 
tion Army  Soldiers,  who  have  other  work  in  the  world,  but  for  those 
who  are  not  in  the  Army  these  recreations  will  be  permissible. 
Gambling  and  anything  of  an  immoral  tendency  will  be  repressed 
like  stealing. 

There  will  probably  be  an  Annual  Exhibition  of  fruit  and  flowers, 
at  which  all  the  Colonists  who  have  a  »plot  of  garden  of  their  own 
will  take  part.  They  will  exhibit  their  fruit  and  vegetables  as  well 
as  their  rabbits,  their  poultry  and  all  the  other  live-stock  of  the  farm. 

Every  effort  will  be  made  to  establish  village  industries,  and  I  am 
oot  without  hope  but  that  we  may  be  able  to  restore  some  of  thej 


PUBLIC    ELEMENTARY   SCHOOL. 


139 


domestic  occupations  which  steam  has  compelled  us  to  confine  to  the 
great  factories.  The  more  the  Colony  can  be  made  self-supporting 
the  better.  And  although  the  hand  loom  can  never  compete  with 
Manchester  mills,  still  an  occupation  which  kept  the  hands  of  the 
goodwife  busy  in  the  long  winter  nights,  is  not  to  be  despised  as  an 
element  in  the  economics  of  the  Settlement.  While  Manchester  and 
Leeds  may  be  able  to  manufacture  common  goods  much  more  cheaply 
than  they  can  be  spun  at  home,  even  these  emporiums,  with  all  their 
grand  improvements  in  machinery,  would  be  sorely  pressed  to-day  to 
compete  with  the  hand-loom  in  many  superior  classes  of  work.  For 
instance,  we  all  know  the  hand-sewn  boot  still  holds  its  own  against 
the  most  perfect  article  that  machinery  can  turn  out. 

There  would  be,  in  the  centre  of  the  Colony,  a  Public  Elementary 
School  at  which  the  children  would  receive  training,  and  side  by 
side  with  that  an  Agricultural  Industrial  School,  as  elsewhere 
described.        .  • 

The  religious  welfare  of  the  Colony  would  be  looked  after  by  the 
Salvation  Army,  but  there  will  be  no  compulsion  to  take  part  in  its 
services.  The  Sabbath  will  be  strictly  observed ;  no  unnecessary 
work  will  be  done^in  the  Colony  on  that  day,  but  beyond  interdicted 
labour,  the  Colonists  will  be  allowed  to  spend  Sunday  as  they  please. 
It  v/ill  be  the  fault  of  the  Salvation  Army  if  they  do  not  find  our 
Sunday  Services  sufficiently  attractive  to  command  their  attendance. 


.    *' 


'\:y 


:■>'.!: 


Section  3— AGRICULTURAL  VILLAGES. 

/This  brings  me  to  the  next  feature  of  the  Scheme,  the  creation  ofj 
agricultural  settlements  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Farm,  around 
the  original  Estate.  I  hope  to  obtain  land  for  the  purpose  of  allot- 
ments which  can  be  taken  upSlto  the  extent  of  so  many  acres  by  the 
more  competent  Colonists  who  wish  to  remain  at  home  instead  of 
Igoing  abroad.  T  There  will  be  allotments  from  three  to  five  acres 
iwith  a  cottage,  a  cow,  and  the  necessary  tools  and  seed  for  making 
jthe  allotment  self-supporting.  /A  weekly  charge  will  be  imposed  for. 
■the  repayment  of  the  cost  of  the  fixing  and  stock.  The  tenant 
will,  of  course,  be  entitled  to  his  tenant-right,  but  adequate  pre- 
cautions will  be  taken  against  underletting  and  other  forms  by  which 
sweating  makes  its  way  into  agricultural  communities.  On  entering 
into  possession,  the  tenant  will  become  responsible  for  his  own  and 
his  family's  maintenance.  I  shall  stand  no  longer  in  the  relation  of 
father  of  the  household  to  him,  as  I  do  to  the  other  members  of  the 
fColony  ;  his  obligations  will  cease  to  me,  except  in  the  payment  of  his 
renjt. 

The  creation  of  a  large  number  of  Allotment  Farms  would  make  the 
establishment  of  a  creamery  necessary,  where  the  milk  could  be 
brought  in  every  day  and  converted  into  butter  by  the  most  modem 
methods,  with  the  least  possible  delay.  'Dairying,  which  has  in  some 
places  on  the  Continent  almost  developed  to  a  fine  art,  is  in  a  very 
backward  condition  in  this  country.  But  by  co-operation  among 
the  cottiers  and  an  intelligent  Headquarter  staff  much  could  be  done 
which  at  present  appears  impossible. 

The  tenant  will  be  allowed  permanent  tenancy  on  payment  of  an 
'annual  rent  or  land  tax,  subject,  of  course',  to  such  necessary  regu- 
lations which  may  be  made  for  the  prevention'' of  intemperance  and 
immorality  and  the  preservation  of  the  fundamental  features  of  the 
Colony.  .^  In  this  way  our  FarmiColony  will  throw  off  small  Colonies' 


COTTAGES    DETACHED   RESIDENCES. 


^f 


^all*iround  it^htil  the  origmal  sitels  bu'tlhe^  centre:  of  a^hole"-  series 
of  small  farms,  where  those  whom  we  have  rescued  ao'd^traiiiipd  will 
live,  if  not  under  their  own  vine'.and  fig  tree,  at>  leastVin  the  midst 
of  their  own.  little  •  fruit  farm,  and  surrounded  by  their  small  flocks 
and  herds.'*;;  The  cottages  wilLbe  so  many  detached  residences,)each 
standing  in  its  own  ground,  not  so  far  away  from  its  neighbours'  as 
to  deprive  its  occupants  of  the  benefit  of  human  intercourse 


I'  I ; 


'0 


■  i 


'.'■I' 


Section  4.— CO-OPERATIVE  FARM. 

Side  by  side  with  the  Farm  Colony  proper  I  should  propose  to 
renew  the  experiment  of  Mr.  E.  T.  Craig,  which  he  found  work  so 
successfully  at  Ralahine.  When  any  members  of  the  original  Colony 
had  pulled  themselves  sufficiently  together  to  desire  to  begin  again 
on  their  own  account,  I  should  group  some  of  them  as  partners  in  a 
Co-operative  Farm,  and  see  whether  or  no  the  success  achieved  in 
County  Clare  could  not  be  repeated  in  Essex  or  in  Kent.  I  cannot 
have  more  unpromising  material  to  deal  with  than  the  wild  Irishmen 
on  Colonel  Vandeleur's  estate,  and  I  would  certainly  take  care  to  be 
safeguarded  against  any  such  mishap  as  destroyed  the  early  promise 
of  Ralahine. 

I  shall  look  upon  this  as  one  of  the  most  important  experiments  of 
the  entire  series,  and  if,  as  I  anticipate,  it  can  be  worked  success- 
fully, that  is,  if  the  results  of  Ralahine  can  be  secured  on  a  larger 
scale,  I' shall  consider  that  the  problem  of  the  employment  of  the 
people,  and  the  use  of  the  land,  and  the  food  supply  for  the  globe,  is 
unquestionably  solved,  were  its  inhabitants  many  times  greater  in 
number  than  they  are. 

"Without  saying  more,  some  idea  will  be  obtained  as  to  what  I 
propose  from  the  story  of  Ralaliine  related  briefly  at  the  close  of 
this  volume. 


ropose  to 

work  so 

lal  Colony 

gin  again 

tners  in  a 

hieved  in 

I  cannot 

Irishmen 

bre  to  be 

y  promise 

iments  of 
I  success- 
1  a  larger 
nt  of  the 
:  globe,  is 
^eater  in 

0  whai  I 
close  of 


CHAPTER  IV. 
NEW  BRITAIN.-THE  COLONY  OVER-SEA. 

We  now  come  to  the  third  and  final  stage  of  the  regenerative 
process.  The  Colony  Over-Sea.  To  mention  Over-Sea  is  sufficient 
with  some  people  to  damn  the  Scheme.  A  prejudice  against  emigra- 
tion has  been  diligently  fostered  in  certain  quarters  by  those  who 
have  openly  admitted  that  they  did  not  wish  to  deplete  the  ranks  of 
the  Army  of  Discontent  at  home,  for  the  more  discontented  people 
you  have  here  the  more  trouble  you  can  give  the  Government,  and 
the  more  power  you  have  to  bring  about  the  general  overturn,  whi'h 
is  the  only  thing  in  which  they  see  any  hope  for  the  future.  Some 
again  object  to  emigration  on  the  ground  that  it  is  transportation.  I 
confess  that  I  have  great  sympathy  with  those  who  object  to  emigra- 
tion as  carried  on  hitherto,  and  if  it  be  a  consolation  to  any  of  my 
critics  I  may  say  at  once  that  so  far  from  compulsorily  expatriating 
any  Englishman  I  shall  refuse  to  have  any  part  or  lot  in  emigrating 
any  man  or  woman  who  does  not  voluntarily  wish  to  be  sent  out. 

A  journey  over  sea  is  a  very  diflerent  thing  now  to  what  it  was 
when  a  voyage  to  Australia  consumed  more  than  six  months,  when 
emigrants  were  crowded  by  hundreds  into  sailing  ships,  and  scenes 
of  abominable  sin  and  brutality  were  the  normal  incidents  of  the 
passage  The  world  has  grown  much  smaller  since  the  electric 
telegraph  was  discovered  and  side  by  side  with  the  shrinkage  of 
this  planet  under  the  influence  ot  bteam  and  electricity  there  has 
come  a  sense  of  brotherhood  and  ^  ccnsuiousness  of  community  o*' 
interest  and  of  nationality  on  the  part  of  the  English-speaking  people 
throughout  the  world.  To  change  from  Devon  to  Australia  is  not 
such  a  change  in  many  respects  as  merely  to  crosfi  over  from  Devon 
to  Normandy.  In  Australia  the  Emigrant  finds  himself  among  men 
and  women  of  the  same  habits,  the  same  language,  and  in  fact  -the 
same  people,  excepting  that  they  \\\z  u|ider  the  southern  cross  instead 


!',  :i,'. 


1.;      I- 


"i ,', 


1.     . 


"'■ 


I.  ■  ,  J 


>* 


144! 


THt    COLONY    OVER  SEA? 


of  in  the  northern  latitudes.  The  reduction  of  the  postage  between 
England  and  the  Colonies,  a  reduction  which  I  hope  will' soon  be 
followed  by  the  establishment  of  the  Universal  Penny  Post  between 
the  English  speaking  lands,  will  further  tend  to  lessen  the  sense  of 
distance. 

The  constant  travelling  of  ♦he  Colonists  backwards  and  forwards 
to  England  makes  it  absurd  to  speak  of  the  Colonies  as  if  they  were 
a  foreign  land.  They  arc  simply  pieces  of  Britain  distributed  about 
the  world,  enabling  the  Britisher  to  have  access  to  the  richest  parts 
of  the  earth. 

Another  objection  which   will  be  taken  to  this  Scheme  is  that 
colonists  already  over  sea  will  see  with  mfinite  alarm  the  prospect  of 
the  transfer  of  our  waste  labour  to  their  country.     It  is  easy  to  under- 
stand how  this  misconception  will  arise,  but  there  is  not  much  dangei 
of 'opposition  on  this  score.     The  working-men  who  rule  the  roost 
at   Melbourne  object   to  the   introduction  of  fresh  workmen  into 
their  labour  market,  for  the  same  reason  that  the  new   Dockers' 
Union  objects  to  the  appearance  of  new  hands  at  the  dock  gates, 
that  is  for  fear  the  newcomers  will  enter  into  unfriendly  competition 
with  them.     But  no  Colony,  not  even  the  Protectionist  and  Trade 
Unionists  who  govern  Victoria,  could  rationally  object  to  the  intro- 
duction of  trained   Colonists   planted  out  upon   the  land.     They 
would    see  that  these   men   would   become  a  source  of  wealth, 
simply  because   they  would  at  once    become    producers  as  well 
as  consumers,   and  instead   of  cutting  down   wages   they  would 
tend  directly  to  improve   trade  and   so  increase  the  employment 
of  the   workmen    now    in    the  Colony.     Emigration   as    hitherto 
conducted  has  been  carried  out  on  directly  opposite  principles  to 
these.    'Men  and  women  have  simply  been  shot  down  into  countries 
without  any  regard  to  their  possession  of  ability  to  earn  a  liveli- 
hood, and  have  consequently  become  an  incubus  upon  the  energies 
of  the  community,  and  a  discredit,  expense,  and  burden.    The  result 
is  that  they  gravitate  to  the  towns  and  compete  with  the  colonial 
|workmen,  and  thereby  drive  down  wages.     We  shall  avoid  that 
[mistake.  ■  We  need  not  wonder  that  Australians  and  other  Colonists 


should   object  to  their  countries   being  converted   into  a   sort  of 


damping  groijujd,  on  which  to  deposit   men  andiwoinen    totally 
iUnsuited  for  the  new  circumstances  in  which  they  fii;^  tJipQi^((;||^. 

Moreover,   looking    at   it   from   the   aspieot  of  the    cl{i^^iifaidf»< 
Vould   such  emigration    be   of  any.^endurinfif..value?.^It.  is   not! 


5  between 
rsoon  be 
t  between 
e  sense  of 

forwards 
they  were 
ited  about 
lest  parts 

le  is  that 
rospect  of 
to  under- 
ch  dangei 
the  roost 
men  into 

Dockers' 
)ck  gates, 
mpelitioa 
nd  Trade 
he  intro- 
d.  They 
wealth, 
as  well 
;y  would 
ployment 

hitherto 
iciple&  to 
countries 

a  liveli- 

encrgies 
'he  result 

colonial 
troid  that 
Colonists 
sort  of 
totally 
sehtes. 

18   not! 


WHERE   SHOULD   IT   BE  t 


145 


merely  more  favourable  circumstances  that  are  requircfd  by 
these  crowds,  but  those  habits  of  industry,  truthfulness,  and 
self-restraint,  which  will  enable  them  to  profit  by  better  conditions  if 
they  could  only  come  to  possess  them.  According  to  the  most 
reliable  information,  there  are  already  sadly  too  many  of  the  same 
classes  we  want  to  help  in  countries  supposed  to  be  the  paradise  of 
the  working-man 

What  could  br  Jone  with  a  people  whose  first  enquiry  on  reaching 
a  foreign  land  would  be  for  a  whisky  shop,  and  who  were  utterly 
ignorant  of  those  forms  of  labour  and  habits  of  industry  absolutely 
indispensable  to  the  earning  of  a  subsistence  amid  the  hardships  of  an 
Emigrant's  life  ?  Such  would  naturally  shrink  from  the  belf-denial 
the  new  circumstances  inevitably  called  for,  and  rather  than  suffer 
the  inconveniences  connected  with  a  settler's  life,  would  probably 
sink  down  into  helpless  despair,  or  settle  in  the  slums  of  the  first 
city  they  came  to. 

These  difficulties,  in  my  estimation,  bar  the  way  to  the  emigration 
on  any  considerable  scale  of  the  "  submerged  tenth,"  and  yet  I  am 
strongly  of  opinion,  with  the  majority  of  those  who  have  thought  and 
'  ^'tten  on  political  economy,  that  emigration  is  the  only  remedy  for 
mighty  evil.  Now,  the  Over-Sea  Colony  plan,  I  think,  meets 
iiiese  difficulties : — 

(i)  In  the  preparation  of  the  Colony  for  the  people. 

(2)  In  the  preparation  of  the  people  for  the  Colony. 

(3)  In  the  arrangements  that  are  rendered  possible  lor  the  tiansport  of 
the  pepple  when  prepared. 

It  is  proposed  to  secure  a  large  tract  of  land  in  some  country 
suitable  to  our  purpose.  We  have  thought  of  South  Africa,  to  begin 
with.  We  are  in  no  way  pledged  to  this  part  of  the  world,  or  to  it 
alone.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  our  establishing  similar  settle- 
ments in  Canada,  Australia,  or  some  other  land.  British  Columbia 
has  been  strongly  urged  upon  our  notice.  Indeed,  it  is  certain  if 
this  Scheme  proves  the  success  we  anticipate,  the  first  Colony  will 
be  the  forerunner  of  similar  communities  elsewhere.  Africa,  how- 
ever, presents  to  us  great  advantages  for  the  moment.  There  is  any 
amount  of  land  suitable  for  our  purpose  which  can  be  obtained,  we 
think,  without  difficulty.  The  climate  is  healthy.  Labour  is  in 
great  demand,  so  that  if  by  any  means  work  failed  on  the  Colony, 
there  would  be  abundant  opportunities  for  securing  good  wages  from 
thefneighbouring  Companies.  '"  > 


I      I  '\ 


V'    1I 

!         '  "  >l 


;-,  I    ■'  ji; 


A  •■'Hi 


Ih 


c  :M: 


, -I'!  !!■;".  ""IH.IJISL 


T 


Section  i.~THE  COLONY  A!>iD  THE  COLONISTS. 

Before  any  decision  is  arrived  at,  however,  information  will  be 
obtained  as  to  the  position  and  character  of  the  land ;  the  accessibility 
of  markets  for  commodities ;  communication  with  Europe,  and  other 
necessary  particulars.  ;    : 

The  next  business  would  be  to  obtain  on  grant,  or  otherwise,  ?. 
sufficient  tract  of  suitable  country  for  the  purpose  of  a  Colony^  on 
conditions  that  would  meet  its  present  and  future  character. 

After  obtaining  a  title  to  the  country,  the  next  business  will  be  to 
effect  a  settlement  in  it.  This,  I  suppose,  will  be  accomplished  by 
sending  a  competent  body  ot  men  under  skilled  supervision  to  fix  on 
a  suitable  location  for  the  first  settlement,  erecting  such  buildings  as 
vould  be  required,  enclosing  and  breaking  up  the  land,  putting  in 
first  crops,  and  so  storing  sufficient  supplies  of  food  for  the  future. 

Then  a  supply  of  Colonists  would  be  sent  out  to  join  them,  and 
from  time  to  time  other  detachments,  as  the  Colony  was  prepared  to 
receive  them.  Further  locations  could  then  be  chosen,  and  more 
country  broken  up,  a  .d  before  a  very  long  period  has  passed  the 
Colony  would  be  capable  of  receiving  and  absorbing  a  continuous 
stream  of  emigration  of  considerable  proportions. 

The  next  work  would  be  the  establishment  of  a  strong  and 
efficient  government,  prepared  to  carry  out  and  enforce  the  same 
laws  and  discipline  to  which  the  Colonists  had  been  accustomed  in 
England,  together  with  such  alterations  and  additions  as  the  new 
circumstances  would  render  necessary. 

The  Colonists  would  become  responsible  for  all  that  concerned 
their  own  support ;  that  is  to  say,  they  would  buy  and  sell,  engage 
in  trade,  hire,  servants,  and  transact  all  the  ordinary  bu  ness  affairs 
of  every-day  life. 

Our  Headquarters  in  England  would  represent  the  Colony  in  this 
country  on  their  behalf,  and  with  money  ijupplied  by  tiiem,  when 
bnce  fairly. established,  would  buy.,  for. their  agents  v.nat  they  were  at 


W!PWIP 


'S. 

tion  will  be 
accessibility 
le,  and  other 

otherwise,  ?. 
I  Colonyj  on 
er. 

ss  will  be  to 
mplished  by 
on  to  fix  on 
buildings  as 
i,  putting  in 
he  future. 
n  them,  and 
prepared  to 
1,  and  more 
passed  the 
I  continuous 

strong  and 
e  the  same 
zustomed  in 
as  the  new 

It  concerned 
sell,  engage 
ness  affairs 

•lony  in  this 
tiiem,  when 
hey.  were  at, 


THE^COLONISTS    PREPARED  FOR   THE   C0L0NY7     147 


the  outset  unable  to  produce  themselves,  such  as  machinery  and  the 
like,  also  selling  their  produce  to  the  best  advantage. 

All  land,  timber,  minerals,  and  the  like,  would  be  rented  to  the 
Colonists,  all  unearned  increments,  and  improvements  on  the  land, 
would  be  held  on  behalf  of  the  entire  community,  and  utilised  for  its 
general  advantages,  a  certain  percentag ».  being  set  apart  for  the 
extension  of  its  borders,  and  the  continued  transmission  of  Colonists 
from  England  in  increasing  numbers. 

Arrangements  would  be  made  for  the  temporary  accommodation 
of  new  arrivals.  Officers  being  maintained  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
them  in  hand  on  landing  and  directing  and  controlling  them  generally. 
So  far  as  possible,  they  would  be  introduced  to  work  without  any 
waste  of  time,  situations  being  ready  for  them  to  enter  upon  ;  and 
any  way,  their  wants  would  be  supplied  till  this  was  the  case. 

There  would  be  friends  who  would  welcome  and  care  for  them, 
not  merely  on  the  principle  of  profit  and  loss,  but  on  the  ground  of 
friendship  and  religion,  many  of  whom  the  emigrants  would  probably 
have  known  before  in  the  old  country,  together  with  all  the  social 
influences,  restraints,  and  religious  enjoyments  to  which  the  Colonists 
have  been  accustomed. 

After  dealing  with  the  preparation  of  the  Colony  for  the  Colonists, 
we  now  come  to  the  preparation  of  the 

COLONISTS    FOR   THE  COLONY    OVER-SEA. 

They  would  be  prepared  by  an  education  in  honesty,  truth,  and 
mdustry,  without  which  we  could  not  indulge  in  any  hope  of  their 
succeeding.  While  men  and  women  would  be  received  into  the 
City  Colony  without  character,  none  would  be  sent  over  the  sea  who 
had  not  \^\  n  proved  worthy  of  this  trust. 

They  would  be  inspired  with  an  ambition  to  do  well  for  themselves 
and  their  fellow  Colonists. 

They  would  be  instructed  in  all  that  concerned  their  future  career. 

They  would  be  taught  those  industries  in  which  they  would  be 
most  profitably  employed. 

They  would  be  inured  to  the  hardships  tney  would  have  to  endure. 

They  would  be  accustomed  to  the  economies  they  would  have  to 
practise. 

They  would  be  made  acquainted  with  the  comrades  with  whom 
they  would  have  to  live  and  labour. 

They  would  be  accustomed  to  the  Government,  Orders,  and 
Regulations  which  they^ would  have  to  obey. 


p 

i 
1- 

^1 

L 

ir; ; 

■!-.^t^^ 


to     ,:■ 


^  ^hF 


/■  '■\- 


■ 

■148? 


TTHE    COLONY   AND   THE    COLON ISTS.T 


They  ^ould  be  educated,  so  far.  sis  the  opportunity  served,  in  those 
habits  of  patience,  forbearance,  and  affection  which  would  so  largely 
tend  to* their  own  welfare,  and-  to  the  successful  carrying  out  of  this 
part  of  oitf  Scheme." 

^TRANSPORT  ■  TO    THE    COLONY   OVER-SEA.. 

We  now  come  to  the  question  of  transport.  •  This  certainly  has  an 
element  of  difficulty  in  it,  if  the  remedy  is  to  be  applied  on  a  very 
large  scale.      But  this  will  appear  of  less  importance  if  we  consider  :— 

That  the  largeness  of  the  number  will  reduce  the  individual  cost. 
Emigrants  can  be  conveyed  to  such  a  location  in  South  Africa,  as 
we  have  in  view,  by  ones  and  twos  at  ;^8  per  head,  including  land 
journey  ;■  and,  no  doubt,  were  a  large  number  earned,  this  figure 
would  be-reduced  considerably. 

Many  of  the  Colonists  would  have  friends  who  would  assist  them 
with  the  cost  of  passage  money  and  outfit. 

AH  the  unmarried  will  have  earned  something  on  the  City  an- 
Farm  Colonies,  which  will  go  towards  meeting  their  passage  money. 
In  the  "course  of  time  relatives,  who  are  comfortably  settled  in  the 
Colony,  will  save  money,  and  assist  their  kindred  in  getting  out  to 
them.'-' We  have  the»examples  before  our  eyes  in  Australia  and  the 
United  States  of  how  those  countries  have  in  this  form  absorbed 
from  Europe  millions  of  poor  struggling  people. 

All  Colonists  and  emigrants  generally  will  bind  themselves  in  tx 
legal^. instrument  to  repay  all  monies,  expenses  of  passage,  outfit,  or 
otherwise,  which  would  in  turn  be  utilised  in  sending  out  further 
contingents. 

On-the  plan  named,  if  prudently  carried  out,  and  generously 
assist<?d,  the.  transfer  of  the  entire  surplus  population  of  this  country 
is  not -only  possible,  but  would,  we  think,  in  process  of  time,  be 
effected  ^with  enormous  advantage  to  the  people  themselves,  to  this 
country,;^find  _the  country  -  of  their  adoption.  .The  history  ,  of 
Australia  vaJid  the  United  States  evidences  this.S'  It  is  quite  true 
the-^fe^^  settlers^in'-the  latter  were  people  'superior  in  every  way 
for'sUch  an  enterprise  to  the- bulk  of  those  we  propose  to  send  out. 
Butiitliii  equally  true  that  large  numbers  of  the  most  ignorant  and 
vicicua  t>f  V  our  European  populations  have  been  pouring  into  that 
countryever  since  without  affecting  its  prosperity,  and  this  Colony 
Over-Sea  would  have  the  immense  advantage  at  the  outset  which 
would  come  from  a  government  and  discipline  carefully  adapted  to  its 
peculiaritircumstance?!  _and  rigidly,  enforced  in  every  particular. 


^f*^ 


idf  in  those 

so  largely 

out  of  this 


inly  has  an 
on  a  very 
onsider  ;— 
i^idual  cost, 
Africa,  as 
uding  land 
this  figure 

assist  them 

e  City  an  ■ 
tge  money, 
tied  in  th;:; 
ting  out  to 
lia  and  the 
n  absorbed 

selves  in  a 
i,  outfit,  or 
3Ut  further 

generously 
lis  country 
*  time,  be 
^es,  to  this 
listory ,  of 
quite  true 
ivery  'way 
send  out. 
orant  and 
:  into  that 
s  Colony 
set  which 
ted  to  its 
ulai; 


TRANSPORT  TO  THE  COLONY  OVER-SEA. 


149 


I  would  guard  agaiiist  misconception   in  relation  to  this  Colony 

cf-Sea  by  pointing  out  that  all  my  proposals  here  are  necessarily  ten- 
tive  and  experimental.  There  is  no  intention  on  my  part  to' stick  to 
y  of  these  suggestions  if,  on  maturer  consideration  and  consulta- 
n  with  practical  men,  they  can  be  improved  upon.  Mr.  Arnold 
hite,  who  has  already  conducted  two  parties  of  Colonists  to  South 
rica,  is  one  of  the  few  men  in  this  country  who  has  had 
ictical    experience    of    the    actual    difficulties    of    colonisation. 

have,  through  a  mutual  friend,  had  the  advantage  of  corn- 
ring  notes  with  him  very  fully,  and  I  venture  to  believe  that  there 

nothing  in  this  Scheme  that  is  not  in  harmony  with  the 
suit  of  his  experience  In  a  couple  of  months  this  book  will  be 
ad  all  over  the  world.  It  will  bring  me  a  plentiful  crop  of  sugges- 
)ns,  and,  I  hope,  offers  of  sei^vice  from  many  valuable  and 
[perienced  Colonists  in  every  country.  In  the  due  order  of  things 
e  Colony  Over-Sea  is  the  last  to  be  started.  Long  before  our  first 
itch  of  Colonists  is  ready  to  cross  the  ocean  I  shall  be  in  a  position 

correct  and  revise  the  proposals  of  this  chapter  by  the  best  wisdom 
id  matured  experience  of  the  practical  men  of  every  Colony  in  the 
mpire.  _^ 


m 


,•■{',[ 


,!.-.^. 


■    1  ■)■ 


i.      I 


I  I 


mams 


Section  2.~UNIVERSAL  EMIGRATION. 


h 


We  have  in  our  remarks  on  the  Over-Sea  Colony  referred  to  the! 
general  concensus  of  opinion  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  studiedj 
the  Social  Question  as  to  Emigration  being  the  only  remedy  for  the 
overcrowded  population  of  this  country,  at  the  same  time  showing 
some  of  the  difficulties  which  lie  in  the  way  of  the  adoption  of  the 
remedy ;   the  dislike  of  the  people   to   so   great   a  change   as   is 
involved  in  going  from  one  country  to  another ;  the  cost  of  their 
transfer,  and  their  general  unfitness  for  an  emigrant's  life.     These 
difficulties,  as  I  think  we  have  seen,  are  fully  met  by  the  Over-Sea 
Colony  Scheme.     But,  apart  from  those  who,  driven  by  their  abject 
poverty,  will  avail  themselves  of  our  Scheme,  there  are  multitudes 
of  people  all  over  the  country  who  would  be  likely  to  emigrate  could 
they  be  assisted  in  so>  doinp^.     Those  we  propose  to  help,  in  thej 
following  manner : — 

1.  By  opening  a  Bureau  in  London,  and  appointing  Officers  whose  businers 
it  will  be  to  acquire  every  kind  of  information  as  to  suitable  countries,  their 
adaptation  to,  and  the  openings  they  present  for  different  trades  and  callings, 
the  possibility  of  obtaining  land  and  employment,  the  rates  of  remuneration, 
and  the  like.  These  enquiries  will  include  the  cost  of  passage-money,  railv/ay 
fares,  outfit,  together  with  every  kind  of  information  required  by  an  emigrant. 

2.  From  this  Bureau  any  one  may  obtain  all  necessary  information. 

3.  Special  terms  viiH  be  arranged  with  steamships,  railway  companies,  anrl 
laad  agents,  of  which  emigrants  using  the  Bureau  will  have  the  advantage, 

4.  Introductions  will  be  supplied,  as  far  as  possible,  to  ageris  a:id  friends  in 
the  localities  to  which  the  emigrant  may  be  proceeding. 

5.  Intending  emigrants,  desirous  of  saving  money,  can  deposit  it  through 
this  Bureau  in  the  Army  Bank  for  that  purpose. 

6.  It  is  expected  that  government  contractors  and  other  employers  of  labour 
rei|uiring  Colonists  of  reliable  character  will  apply  to  this  Bureau  for  such. 
offering  favourable  terms  with  respect  to  passage-money,  employment,  and 
other  advantaj^es., 


AK*    EMIGRATION    BUREAU.' 


151 


7.  No  emigrant  villi  be  sent  out  in  response  to  any  application  from  abioad 
here  the  emigrant's  expenses  are  defrayed,  without  references  as  to  character,' 
ndustry,  and  fitness. 

This  Bureau,  we  think,  will  be  especially  useful  to  women  and 

oung  girls.     There  must  be  a  large  number  of  such  in  this  country 

living  in  semi-starvation,  anyway,  with  very  poor  prospects,  who 

ivould   be  very  welcome  abroad,   the  expense  of  whose  transfer 

governments,  and  masters  and  mistresses  alike  would  be  very  glad  to 

efray,  or  assist  in  defraying,  if  they  could  only  be  assured  on  both 

ides  of  the  beneficial  character  of  the  arrangements  when  made. 

So    widespread   now   are   the  operations   of  the  Army,  and  so 

xtensively  will  this  Bureau  multiply  its  agencies  that  it  will  speedily 

e  able  to  make  personal  enquiries  on  both  sid'^s,"that  is  in  the 

►tion  of  the^riterest  alike  of  the  emigrant  and  the  intended  employer  in  any  part 

f  the  world. 


rred  to  the 
ive  studied 
;dy  for  the 
le  showing 


mge  as  13 
ist  of  their 
fe.  These 
B  Over-Sea 
their  abject 
multitudes 
igrate  could 
help,  in  the 


if: 

J'  . 


*»  .■ 


I*    '  ■' 

(■  I 

'I 


I  .  'I 


^| ,; 


.;■  :i.,! 


t'll 


■■vn 


lose  business 
untries,  their 
and  callings, 
emuneration, 
oney,  railv^ay 
n  emigrant, 
on. 

mpanies,  Jind 
'vantage. 
:id  friends  in 

iit  it  throug'n 


-,!!!! 


jrs  of  labour 
eau  for  such. 
loymsnt,  and 


r 


Ill 


Section  3.— THE  SALVATION  SHIP. 


1  *sen| 

■■.  nort 
nergi 
>assen 

Vustral 

iome 

labits 

When  we  have  selected  a  party  of  emigrants  whom  we  belief  i/ery 
to  be  sufficiently  prepared  to  settle  on  the  land  which  has  been  gc  iindon 
ready   foe  them  in   the   Colony  over  Sea,   it  will  be.  no  disrn.     To 
expatriation  which  will  await  them.      No  one  who  has  ever  been  0  to  ha> 
the  West  Coast  of  Ireland  when  the  emigrants  were  departing,  an  might 
has  heard  the  dismal  wails  which  arise  from  those  who  are  takin  quest! 
leave  of  each  other  for  the  last  time  on  earth,  can  fail  to  sympathis  as,  th( 
with  the  horror  excited  in  many  minds  by  the  very  wo''d  emigratioi  the  ac 
But  when  our  party  sets  out,  there  will  he  no  violent  wrenching  c  would 
home  ties.     In  our  ship  we  shall  export  them  all — father,  mother  very  11 
and  children.     The  individuals  will  be  grouped  in  families,  and  th   us,  wl 
families  will,  on  the  Farm  Colony,  have  been  for  some  months  pasi    All 
more  or  less   near  neighbours,  meeting  each  other  in  the  field,  ijand  it 
the  workshops,  and  in  the  Religious  Services.  -  It  will  resembli 
nothing  so  much  as  the  unmooring  of  a  little  piece  of  England,  an 
towing  it  across  the  sea  to  find  a  safe  anchorage  in  a  sunnier  climi 
The  ship  v/hich  takes  out  emigrants  will  bring  back  the  produce 
the  farms,  and  constant  travelling  to  and  fro  will  lead  more  thai 
ever  to  the  feeling  that  we  and  our  ocean-sundered  brethren  an 
members  of  one  family. 

No  one  who  has  ever  crossed  the  ocean  can  have  failed  to 
impressed  with  the  mischief  that  comes  to  emigrants  when  they  arel 
on  their  way  to  their  destination.     Many  and  many  a  girl  has  dated 
her  downfall  from  the  temptations  which  beset  her  while  journeying| 
to  a  land  v/here  she  had  hoped  to  find  a  happier  future. 

"  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle  hands  to  do,"  and  he 
must  have  his  hands  f611  on  board  an  emigrant  ship.  Look  into 
the  steerage  at  any  time,  and  you  will  find  boredom  inexpressible 
on  every  face.  The  men  have  nothing  to  do,  and  an  incident  of  no 
more 'importance  than  the  appearance,  of  a  sail  upon  the  distant 


instrui 

their  « 

could 

needii 

every 

Th 

direcl 

conv< 

some 

conn 

amoi 

this 

a  po 

vvorl 

muc' 

aver 

pas: 


i 


/:V/DRK^ON 


BOARD  SHIP. 


153 


f|2)SMi^is '911  event  which  makes  the  whole  ship  talkw  I  dd  not  see 
y: 'this  should  be  so.  Of  cimrse,  in  the  case  of  conveying 
^sengers  and  freight,  with  the  utmost  p>ossible  expedition,  for 
aort  distances,  it  would  be  idle  to  expect  that  either  time  or 
nergies  could  be  spared  for  the  employment  or  instruction  of  the 
)assengers.  But  the  case  is  different  when,  instead  of  going  to 
Vmerica,  the  emigrant  turns  his  face  to  South  Africa  or  remote 
Australia. ,  Then,  even  with  the  fastest  steamers,  they  must  remain 
;ome  weeks  or  months  upon  the  high  seas.  The  result  is  that 
labits  of  idleness  are  contracted,  bad  acquaintances  are  formed,  and 
lom  we  believ  i?ery  often  the  moral  and  religious  work  of  a  lifetime  is 
h  has  been  gc  undone. 

be,  no  dismi     To  avoid  these  evil  consequences,  I  think  we  should  be  compelled 

IS  ever  been  0  to  have  a  ship  of  our  own  as  soon  as  possible.     A  sailing  vessel 

departing,  an  might  be  found  the  best  adapted  for  the  work.     Leaving  out  the 

vho  are  takin  question  of  time,  which  would  be  of  very  secondary  importance  with 

to  sympathis  us,  the  construction  of  a  sailing  ship  would  afford  more  space  for 

the  accommodation  of  emigrants  and  for  industrial  occupation,  and 

would  involve  considerably  less  working  expenses,  besides  costing 

very  much  less  at  the  onset,  even  if  '  "i  did  not  have  one  given  to 

us,  which  I  should  think  would  be  very  probable. 

All  the  emigrants  would  be  under  the  charge  of  Army  Officers, 

and  instead  of  the  voyage  being  demoralising,  it  would  b«5  made 

instructive   and   profitable.     From   leaving   London   to   landing  at 

their  destination,  every  colonist  would  be  under  watchful  oversight, 

sunnier  climeBcould  receive  instruction  in  those  particulars  v/here  they  w^re  still 


o»-d  emigratio 
t  wrenching 
father,  mothei 
milies,  and  th 
le  months  pas 
n  the  field,  ii 
will  resembli 
'  England,  an; 


:he  produce 
ad  more  thai 
brethren  an 


needing  it,  and  be  subjected  to  influences  that  would  be  beneficial 

everyway. 
Then   we   have   seen   that   one  of  the  great  difficulties  in  the 

direction  of  emigration  is  the  cost  of  transport  The  expense  of 
B  failed  to  ,<b«l  conveying  a  man  from  England  to  Australia,  occupying  as  it  does 
vhen  they  areB  some  seven  or  eight  weeks,  arises  not  so  much  from  the  expense 
jirl  has  datedB  connected  with  the  working  of  the  vessel  which  carries  him, -as  the 
le  journeyingj  amount  of  provisions  he  consumes  during  the  passage.     Now,  with 

this  plan  I  think  that  the  emigrants  might  be  made  to  earn  at  least 

>  do,"  and  hel  a  portion  of  this  outlay.  There  is  no  reason  why  a  man  should  not 
>.  Look  intol  work  on  board  ship  any  more  than  on  land.  Of  course,  nothing 
mexpressibleB  much  could  be  done  when  the  weather  was  very  rough  ;  but  the 
icident  of  nol  average  number  of  days  during  which  it  would  be  impossible  for. 

>  the  distant  I  passengers  Jo  ..  employ  themselves  profitably,Jni,the.  time «.  spent 


H 


'I- J, 


■  1.  ►   ■  .-i  J 


■fmr 


-M- 


"T 


15^ 


THE   SALVATION' SHIP 


between    the  Channel    and  Cape   Town    or  Australia  would 
comparatively  few. 

When  the  ship  was  pitching  or  rolling,  work  would  be  difficull 
but  even  then,  when  the  Colonists  get  their  sea-legs,  and  are  fr^ 
from  the  qualmishness  which  overtakes  landsmen  when  first  gettii 
afloat,  I  cannot  see  why  they  should  not  engage  in  some  form 
industrial  work  far  more  profitable  than  yawning  and  lounging  aboil 
the  deck,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  by  so  doing  they  woulj 
lighten  the  expense  of  their  transit.  The  sailors,  firemeif 
engineers,  and  everybody  else  connected  with  a  vessel  have 
work,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  our  Colonists  should  not  wor| 
also. 

Of  course,  this  method  would  require  special  arrangements  in  tlij 
fitting  up  of  the  vessel,  which,  if  it  were  our  own,  it  would  not 
difficult  to  make.  At  first  sight  it  may  seem  difficult  to  finJ 
employments  on  board  ship  which  could  be  engaged  in  to  advantage] 
and  it  might  not  be  found  possible  to  fix  up  every  individual  righ 
away ;  but  I  think  there  would  be  very  few  of  the  class  anj 
character  of  people  we  should  take  out,  with  the  prior  instructioi 
they  would  have  received,  who  would  not  have  fitted  themsdve 
into  some  useful  labour  before  the  voyage  ended. 

To  begin  with,  there  would  be  a  large  amount  of  the  ordix 
ship's  work  that  the  Colonists  could  perform,  such  as  the  preparatioj 
of  food,  serving  it  out,  cleaning  the  decks  and  fittings  of  the  shij 
generally,  together  with  the  'loading  and  unloading  of  cargo. 
these  operations  could  be  readily  done  under  the  direction  of  perl 
maneut  hands.  Then  shoemaking,  knitting,  "*wing,  tailoring,  ani 
other  kindred  occupations  could  be  engaged  in.  I  should  thinll 
sewing-machines  could  be  worked,  and,  one  way  or  another,  ani 
amount  of  garments  could  be  manufactured,  which  would  find  readj 
and  profitable  sale  on  landing,  either  among  the  Colonists  the 
\selves,  or  with  the  people  round  about: 

Not  only  would  the  ship  thus  be  a  perfect  hive  of  industry,  it  wouI(| 
also  be  a  floating  temple.    The  Captain,  Officers,  and  every  member ' 
the  crew  would  be  Salvationists,  and  all,  therefore,  alike  interested  iij 
the   enterprise.      Moreover,   the   probabilities  are  that  we  shouI(| 
obtain   the  service  of  the  ship's  officers  and  crew  in  the  mc 
inexpensive    manner,   in  hannony  with  the  usages  of  the  Aimj 
everywhere  else,  meii  serving  from  love  and  not  as  a  mere  busim 
>The  effect  _  produced    by  our  ^ip    cruising,  slowly    southwards 


A   MISSIONARY  VESSEL. 


U5 


tifying  to  the  reality  of  a  Salvation  for  both  worlds,  calling  at 
convenient  ports,  would  constitute  a  new  kind  of  mission  work, 
Lnd  drawing  out  everywhere  a  large  amount  of  warm  practicd 
Sympathy.  At  present  the  influence  of  those  who  go  down  to  the 
Lea  in  ships  is  not  always  in  favour  of  raisuig  the  morals  anc'i 
religion  of  the  dwellers  in  the  places  where  they  come.  Here, 
lowever,  would  be  one  ship  at  least  whose  appearance  foretold 
10  disorder,  gave  rise  to  no  debauchery,  and  fiom  whose  capacious 
mil  would  stream  forth  an  Army  of  men,  who,  instead  of  throng Jng 
grog-shops  and  other  haunts  of  licentious  indulgence,  would 
ccupy  themselves  with  explaining  and  proclaiming  the  religion 
}f  the  Love  of  God  and  the  Brotherhood  of  Man. 


IV 


!    i 


■i,i 


,  I 


/■    .  I-   : 

■  f  i  .   . 


,-.  i':! 


CHAPTER  V.  :    ^ 

MORE  CRUSADES 

I  have  now  sketched  out  briefly  the  leading  features  of  the  three-l 
fold  Scheme  by  which  I  think  a  way  can  be  opened  out  of  "  Darkest! 
England/'  by  which  its  forlorn  denizens  can  escape  into  the  light  and! 
freedom  of  a  new  life.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  make  a  clear  broadl 
road  out  of  the  heart  of  this  dense  and  matted  jungle  forest ;  itsi 
inhabitants  are  in  many  cases  so  degraded,  so  hopeless,  so  utterl}r| 
desperate  that  we  shall  have  to  do  something  more  than  make  roads. 
As  we  read  in  the  parable,  it  is  often  not  enough  that  the  feast  be  I 
prepared,  and  the  guests  be  bidden ;  we  must  needs  go  into  the  high- 1 
ways  and  byways  and  compel  them  to  come  in.  So  it  is  not  enough  I 
to  provide  our  City  Colony  and  our  Farm  Colony,  and  then  rest  on  I 
our  oars  as  if  we  had  done^  our  work.  That  kind  of  thing  will  not| 
save  the  Lost. 

it  is  necessary  to  organise  rescue  expeditions  to  free  the  miserable  I 
wanderers  from  their  captivity,  and  bring  them  out  into  the  larger 
liberty  and  the  fuller  hfe.  Talk  about  Stanley  and  Emin  !  There  is  I 
not  one  of  us  but  has  an  Emin  somewhere  or  other  in  the  heart  of 
Darkest  England,  whom  he  ought  to  sally  forth  to  rescue.  Our  Emins 
have  the  Devil  for  their  Mahdi,  and  when  we  get  to  them  we  find 
that  it  is  their  friends  and  neighbours  who  hold  them  back,  and  they 
are,  oh,  so  irresolute!  It  needs  each  of  us  to  be  as  indomitabla^as 
Stanley,  to  burst  through  all  obstacles,  to  force  our  way  right  to  the 
centre  of  things,  and  then  to  labour  with  the  poor  prisoner  of  vice 
and  crime  with  all  our  might.  But  had  not  the  Expeditionary 
Committee  furnished  the  financial  means  whereby  a  road  was  opened  to 
the  sea,  both  Stanley  and  Emin  would  probably  have  been  in  the 
heart  of  Darkest  Africa  to  this  day.  This  Scheme  is  our  Stanley 
Expedition.    The  analogy  is  very  close.    I  propose  to  make  a  road 


%\ 


A    NEW    STANLEY    FOR    ANOTHER    EMIN.' 


157 


clear  down  to  the  sea.  But  alas  our  poor  Emin  t  Even  when  the 
road  is  open,  he  halts  and  lingers  and  doubts.  First  he  will,  and 
then  he  won't,  and  nothing  less  than  the  irresistible  pressure  of  a 
friendly  and  stronger  purpose  will  constrain  him  to  take  the  road 
which  has  been  opened  for  him  at  such  a  cost  of  blood  and  treasure. 
I  now,  therefore,  proceed  to  sketch  some  of  the  methods  by  which 
v/e  shall  attempt  to  save  the  lost  and  to  rescue  those  who  arc 
perishing  in  the  midst  of  "  Darkest  England." 


,/ 


of  the  three-l 
of  "  Darkest! 
the  light  andl 
a  clear  broadl 
e  forest;  its! 
ss,  so  utterly] 

make  roads, 
t  the  feast  be  I 
nto  the  high- 1 
s  not  enough 

then  rest  onl 
hing  will  not 


rt 


';M^'i 


\\ 


he  miserable 
the  larger 
There  is 

the  heart  of 
Our  Emins 

hem  we  find 

ck,  and  they 

domitablv^as 
right  to  the 

)ner  of  vice 
peditionary 

as  opened  to 
seen  in  the 
lur  Stanley 
i;^ke  a  road 


■y-^' 


Section  i.~A  SLUM  CRUSADE.— OUR  SLUM  SISTERSL 

When  Professor  Huxley  lived  as  a  medical  officer  in  the  East  of 
London  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  actual  condition  of^the'life 
of  many  of  its  populace  which  led  him  long  afterwards  to  declare 
that  the  surroundings  of  the  savages  of  New  Guinea" were; mucli 
more  conducive  to  the  leading  of  a  decent  human  existence"*  than 
those  in  which  many  of  the  East-Enders  live.  Alas,  it  is  not  only 
in  London  that  such  lairs  exist  in  which  the  savages  of  civilisation 
lurk  and  breed.  :i  All  the  great  towns  in  both  the  Old  World  and  the 
New  have  their  slums,  in  which  huddle  together,  in  festering  and 
verminous  filth,  men,  women,  and  children.  They  correspond  .to 
the  lepers  who  thronged  the  lazar  houses  of  the  Middle  Ages; 

As  in  those  days  St.  Francis  of  Assissi  and  the  heroic  band  of 
saints  who  gathered  under  his  orders  were  wont  to  go  and  lodge 
with  the  lepers  at  the  city  gates,  so  the  devoted  souls  who  have 
enlisted  in  the  Salvation  Army  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  heart  of 
the  worst  slums.  •-  But '  whereas  the  Friars  were  men,  our  Slum 
Brigade  is  composed  of  women,  v- 1  have  a  hundred  of  them  under 
my  orders,  young  women  for  the  most  part,  quartered  all  of  them  in 
outposts  in  the  heart  o^the  Devil's  country.  Most  of  them  are  i  the 
children  of  the  poor  who  have  known  hardship  from  their  youth  up. 
Some  are  ladies  born  and  bred,  who  have  not  been  afraid^}  to 
exchange  the  comfort  of  a  West  End  drawing-room  for  service 
among  the  vilest  of  the  vile,  and  a  residence  in  small  and>fetid 
rooms  whose  walls  were  infested  with  vermin.  They  live  the  life  of  the 
Crucified  for  the  sake  of  the  men  and  women  for  whom  He.  lived  and 
died.  :^.  They  form  one  of  the  branches  of  the  activity  of  the  'Armyj 
upon  which  I  dwell  with  deepest  sympathy.  They, are  at  the  front; 
they  are  at  close  quarters  with  the  enemy. 

To  the  dwellers  in  decent  homes  who. occupy  cushioned  pews  in 
fashionable  churches . thers  is.. something^ strange .and^quaint  in  the 


r^ 


THE   SISTERS -^OF   TRE  SLUM/ 


169 


rrr- 


, '<**•'*:•  r*)x>' 


-.'*■•« 

ERSL 

I  the  East  of 
I  of  the  ^life 
Is  to  declare 
"were;  much 
istence^'.than 
is  not  only 
civilisation 
orld  and  the 
:stering  and 
rrespond  .to 
^ges. 
oic  band  of 
>  and  lodge 
s  who  have 
the  heart  of 
I,  our  Slum 
them  under 
of  them  in 
tiem  are  {the 
ir  youth  up. 
n  afraid^}  to 
for  service 
ill  and>fetid 
he  life  "of  the 
1^  lived  and 
af  the  'Armyj 
It  the  front ; 

led  pews  in 
[uaint  in  the 


language  they  hear  read  from  the  Bible,  language  which 'habitually 
refers  to' the  Devil  as  an  actual  personality,  and  to  the  struggle 
against  sin  and  unclcanness  as  if  it  were  a  hand  to  hand  death 
wrestle  with  the  legions  of  Hell.  To  our  little  sisters  who  dwell  in 
an  atmosphere  heavy  with  curses,  among  people  sodden  with  drink, 
in  -  quarters  where  sin  and  uncleanness  are  universal,  all .  these 
Biblical  sayings  arc  as  real  as  the  quotations  of  yesterday's  price  of 
Consols  are  to  a  City  man.  They  dwell  in  the  midst  of  Hell,  and  in 
their  daily  warfare  with  a  hundred  devils  it  seems  incredible  to  them 
that  anyone  can  doubt  the  existence  of  either  one  or  the  other. 

1  ne  Slum  Sister  is  what  her  name  implies,  the  Sister  of  the  Slum. 
They  go  forth  in  Apostolic  fashion,  two-and-two  living  in  a  couple  of 
the  same  kind  of  dens  or  rooms  as  are  occupied  by  the  people 
themselves,  differing  only  in  the  cleanliness  and  order,  and  the  few 
articles  of  furniture  which  they  contain."^  Here  they  live  all  the  year 
round,  visiting  the  sick,  looking  after  the  children,  showing  the 
women  how  to  keep  themselves  and  their  homes  decent,  often 
discharging  the  sick  mother's  duties  themselves  ;  cultivating  peace, 
advocating  temperance,  counselling  in  tempcraJities,  and  ceaselessly 
preaching  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  to  the  Outcasts  of  Society. 

I  do  not  like  to  speak  of  their  work.  Words  fail  me,  and  what  I 
say  is  so  unworthy  the  theme.  I  prefer  to  quote  two  descriptions  by 
Journalists  who  have  seen  these  girls  at  work  in  the  field.  The  first 
is  ta!en  from  a  long  article  which  Julia  Hayes  Percy  contributed  to 
the  Neuf  York  World,  describing  a  vijit  paid  by  her  to  the  slum 
quarters  of  the  Salvation  Army  in  Cherry  Hill  Alleys,  in  the 
Whitechapel  of  New  York. 

Twenty-four  hours  in  the  slums— just  a  night  and  a  day — yet  into  them  were 
crowded  such  revelations  of  misery,  depravity,  and  degradation  as  having  once 
been  gazed  upon  life  can  never  be  the  same  afterwards.  Aroupd  and  above 
this  blighted  neighbourhood  flows  the  tide  of  active,  prosperous  life.  Men  and 
women  travel  past  in  street  cars  by  the  Elevated  Railroad  and  across  the  bridge, 
and  take  no  thought  of  its  wretchedness,  of  the  criminals  bred  there,  and  of 
the  disease  engendered  by  its  foulness.  It  is  a  fearful  menace  to  the  public 
health,  both  moral  and  physical,  yet  the  multitude  is  as  heedless  of  danger  as 
the  peasant  who  makes,  his  house  and  plants  green  vineyards  and  olives  above 
Vesuvian  fires.  "^  We  are  almost  as  careless  and  auite  as  unknowing  as  we  pass 
the  bridge  in  the  late  afternoon. 

Our  immediate  destination  is  the  Salvation  Army  Barracks  in  Washing- 
ton   Street, 'and    we    are    going    finally  to    the    Salvation    Officers— two 
6 


A, 


•''  \, 


r  J  : 


I! ' 


■ 


.160 


A   SLUM    CRUSADE. 


,youog/ women— who ''.;have  been  dwelling  and  doing,  a  noble  mission 
work  for ' months  in  '  one  of  "the  worst  comers"  of ^ New  York's i-. most 
vretched  quarter.  '  These ;  Officers  are  not ,  living  'under  the  eegis  of.}  the 
Army,"*  however. a;  The,  blue  .'bordered   flag    is  > furled  '  out  'ofc^vsight,^thc 

uniforms  and  poke. bonnets  are  laid  away,  and  there  are  no  drums  or  tam- 

•  >  .  *■''  ,1.,        .  ,i' 

bourines.   ;" The  banner  over  them  is  love"  of  their  fellow-creatures 'ambng 

whom  they  dwell  upon  an  'equal  plane  of  poverty,  wearing  no: belter: clothes 
tHan  the  rest,  eating  coarse  and  scanty  food,  and  sleeping  upon  hard  cots  or 
upon  the  flooi.  Their  lives  are  consecrated  to  God's  service  among  the  poor  ot 
the  earth.  One  is  a  woman  in  the  early  prime  of  vigorous  life,  the  other-".^  girl 
of  eighteen.  The  elder  of  these  devoted  women  is  awaiting  us  at  the  barracks 
to  be  our  guide  to  Slumdom.  She  is  tall,  slender,. and  clad  in  a  coarse  brown 
gown,  mended  with  patches.  A  big  gingham  apron,  artistically  rent  Jn  several 
places,  is  tied  about  her  Waist.  She  wears  on  old  plaid  woollen  shawl  and  an 
ancient  brown  straw  hat.  Her  dress  indicates  extreme  poverty,  her  face  denotes 
perfect  peace. ''^"  This  is  Em,"  says  Mrs.  Ballington'Bootht  and  after  this  intro- 
duction we  sally  forth/ 

More  and.  more  .wretched  grows  the  district V^nas^" we" ;^netrate  further. 
Em  pauses  before  a  dirty,  broken,  smokef-dimmed  ^  window,  through  which 
in  a  dingy  room  are  seen  a  party  of  roughs,  dark-looking  men,  drinking 
iand  squabbling  at  a  table.  "They  are  our  neighbours  in  the  front." 
We  enter  the  hall-way  and  proceed  to  the  rear  room.  It  is  tiny,  but  clean  and 
warm.  A  fire  bums  on  the  little  cracked  stove,  which  stands  up  bravely  on 
three  legs,  with  a  brick  eking  out  its  support  at  the  fourth  comer.  A  tin  lamp 
stands  on  the  table,  half-a-dozen  chairs,  one  of  which  has  arms,  but  must  have 
renounced  its  rockers  long  ago,  and  a  packing  box,  upon  which  we  deposit  our 
shawls,  constitute  the  furniture.  Opening  from  this  is  a  small  dark  bedroom, 
with  one  cot  made  up  and  another  folded  against  the  wall.  Against  a  door, 
'which  must  communicate  with  the  front  room,  in  which  we  saw  the  disagree- 
able-looking men  sitting,  is  a  wooden  table  for  the  hand-basin.  A  small  trunk 
and  a  barrel  of  clothing  complete  the  inventory. 

Em's  sister  in  the  slum  work  gives  us  a  sweet  shy  welcome.'  She  is  a 
Swedish  girl,  with  the  fair  complexion  and  crisp,  bright  hair  peculiar  to  the 
Scandinavian  blonde-type.  Her  head  reminds  me  of  a  Grenze  that  hangs  in  the 
Louvre,  with  its  low  knot  ol  rippling  hair,  which  fluffs  out  from  her  brow  and 
frames  a  dear  little  face  with  soft  childish  outlines,  a  nez  retrousse,  a  tiny  mouth,' 
likeacmshed  pink  rose,  and  wistful  blue  eyes.  This  girl  has  been  ttliSal- 
vationist  for  two  years. '  During  that  time  she  has  learned  to  .speak,  read;  and 
write  English,  ivhile  she  has  constantly  laboured  among  the  poor  and  wretched. 

The  house  where  we  find  ourselves  was  formerly  notorious  as  one  of  the 
iw:orstin4he  Chexrv  Hill  district.    It  has  been  j^the  .scene  of  r^^some  memorable 


\1 


;■;  -i  ■'IB 


)le  mission 
'ork's  inmost 
egis  of;  the 
^sight^thc 
urns  or  tam- 
tures'ambng 
etterfclothes 
liard  cots  or 
g  the  poor  ot 
other '<6  girl 
the  barracks 
oarse  brown 
itjn  several 
hawl  and  an 
face  denotes 
erthis  intro- 

rate  *  further, 
rough  which 
len,  drinking 

the  front." 
lut  clean  and 
p  bravely  on 

A  tin  lamp 
\xt  must  have 

deposit  our 
irk  bedroom, 

inst  a  door, 
he  disagree- 

small  trunk 

She  is  a 
:uliar  to  the 
hangs  in  the 
er  brow  and 

tiny  mouth, 
been  «xSal- 
ik,  read;  and 
id  wretched. 

one  of  the 
!  memorable 


ROUND  THE  SLUMS  OF  NEW  YORK. 


t61 


crimes,  and  among  them  that  of  the  Chinaman  who  slew  his  Irish  wife,  after 
the  manner  of  "  Jack  the  Ripper,"  on  the  staircase  leading  to  the  second  floor. 
A  notable  change  has  taken  place  in  the  tenement  since  Mattie  and  Em  haytf 
lived  there,  and  their  gentle  influence  is  making  itself  felt  in  the  neighbouring 
houses  as  well.  It  is  nearly  eight  o'clock  when  we  sally  forth.  Each  of  us 
carries  a  handful  of  printed  slips  bearing  a  text  of  Scripture  and  a  few  words 
of  warning  to  lead  the  better  life. 

"  These  furnish  an  excuse  for  entering  places  where  otherwise  we  could  not 
go,"  explains  Em.  ... 

After  arranging  a  rendezvous,  we  separate.  Mattie  and  Liz  go  off  in  one 
direction,  and  Em  and  I  in  anothe*.  From  this  our  progress  seems  like  a 
descent  into  Tartarus.  Em  pauses  before  a  miserable-looking  saloon,  pushes 
open  the  low.  sv/inging  door,  and  we  go  in.  It  is  a  low-ceiled  room,  dingy  with 
dirt,  dim  with  the  smoke,  nauseating  with  the  fumes  of  sour  beer  and  vile 
liquor.  A  sloppy  bar  extends  along  one  side,  and  opposite  is  a  long  table,  with 
indescribable  viands  littered  over  it,  interspersed  with  empty  glasses,  battered 
hats,  and  cigar  stumps,  A  motley  crowd  of  men  and  women  jostle  in  the 
narrow  space.  Em  speaks  to  the  sq^erest  looking  of  the  lot.  He  listens  to 
her  words,  others  crowd  about.  Many  accept  the  slips  we  offer,  and  gradually, 
as  the  throng  separates  to  make  way,  we  gain  the  further  end  of  the  apartment. 
Em's  serious,  sweet,  saint-like  face  I  follow  like  a  star.  All  sense  of  fear  slips 
from  me,  and  a  great  pity  fills  my  soul  as  I  look  upon  the  various  types  oi 
wretchedness. 

As  the  night  wears  on,  the  whole  apartment  seems  to  wake  up.  Every  house  is 
alight ;  the  narrow  sidewalks  and  filthy  streets  are  full  of  people.  Miserable 
little  children,  with  sin-stamped  faces,  dart  about  like  rats ;  little  ones  who 
ought  to  be  in  their  cribs  shift  for  themselves,  and  sleep  on  cellar  doors  and 
areas,  and  under  carts ;  a  few  vendors  are  abroad  with  their  wares,  but  the  most 
of  the  traffic  going  on  is  of  a  different  description.  Along  Water  Street  are 
women  conspicuously  dressed  in  gaudy  colours.  Their  heavily-painted  faces 
are  bloated  or  pinched ;  they  shiver  in  the  raw  night  air.  Liz  speakd  to  one, 
who  replies  that  she  would  like  to  talk,  but  dare  not,  and  as  she  says  this  aa 
old  hag  comes  to  the  door  and  cries : — 

*'  Get  along ;  don't  hinder  her  work  I " 

During  the  evening  a  man  to  whom  Em  has  been  talking  has  told  her : — 

"  You  ought  to  join  the  Salvation  Army ;  they  are  the  only  good  women  who 
bother  us  down  here.  I  don't  want  to  lead  that  sort  of  life ;  but  I  must  go 
where  it  is  light  and  warm  and  :Iean  after  working  all  day,  and  there  isn't  any 
place  but  this  to  come  to  "  exclaimed  the  man. 

"You  will  appreciate  the  plea  to-morrow  when  you  see  how  tne  people  live," 
Em  say*,  as  we  turn  our  steps  toward  the  tenement  room,  which  seems  like  aa. 


.'I 


■  1 


1 1 
if 


m 


m 


J  62 


A   SLUM   CRUSADED 


oasis  of  peace  and  purity  after  the  howling  desert  we  have  been  wandering  in. 
Em  and  Mattie  brew  some  oatmeal  gruel,  and  being  chiUid  atid  faint  we  en- 
joyed a  cup  of  it.  Liz  and  I  share  a  cot  in  the  outer  room.  We  are  just  going 
to  sleep  when  agonised  cries  ring  out  through  the  night ;  then  the  tones  of  a 
woman's  voice  pleading  pitifully  reach  our,  ears.  We  are  unable  to  distinguish 
her  words,  but  the  sound  is  heart-rending.  It  comes  from  one  of  those  dreadful 
Water  Street  houses,  and  we  all  feel  that  a  tragedy  is  taking  place.  There  is  a 
sound  of  crashing  blows  and  then  silence 

t  It  is  customary  in  the  slums  to  leave  the  house  door  open  perpetuall;',  which 
is  convenient  for  tramps,  who  creep  into  the  hall-ways  to  sleep  at  night,  thereby 
saving  the  few  pence  it  costs  to  occupy  a  "  spot "  in  the  cheap  lodging  houses. 
Em  and  Mat  keep  the  corridor  without  their  room  beautifully  clean,  and  so  it  has 
become  an  especial  favourite  stamping  ground  for  these  vagrants.  We  were  told 
this  when  Mattie  locked  and  bolted  the  door  and  then  tied  the  keys  and  the  door- 
handle together.  So  we  understand  why  there  are  shuffling  steps  along  the 
corridor,  bumping  against  the  panels  of  the  door,  and  heavily  breathing  without 
during  the  long  hours  of  the  night. 

»  AH  day  Em  and  Mat  have  been  toiling  among  their  neighbours,  and  the  night 
before  last  they  sat  up  with  a  dying  woman.  They  are  worn  out  and  sleep 
heavily.  Liz  and  I  lie  awake  and  wait  for  the  coming  of  the  morning ;  we  are 
too  oppressed  by  what  we  have  seen  and  heard  to  talk. 

|;  In  the  morning  Liz  and  I  peep  over  into  the  rear  houses  where  we  heard 
those  dreadful  shrieks  in  the  night.  There  is  no  sign  of  life,  but  we  discover 
enough  filth  to  breed  diphtheria  and  typhoid  throughout  a  large  section.  In  the 
area  below  our  window  there  are  several  inches  of  stagnant  water,  in  which  :s 
heaped  a  mass  of  old  shoes,  cabbage  heads,  garbage,  rotten  wood,  bones,  rags 
and  refuse,  and  a  few  dead  rats.  We  understand  now  why  Em  keeps  her  room 
ull  of  disinfectants.  She  tells  us  that  she  dare  not  make  any  appeal  to  the 
sanitary  authorities,  either  on  behalf  of  their  own  or  any  other  dwelling,  for  fear 
of  antagonizing  the  people,  who  consider  such  officials  as  their  natural  enemies. 
The  first  visit  we  pay  is  up  a  number  of  eccentric  little  flights  of  shaky  steps 
interspersed  with  twists  of  passageway.  The  floor  is  full  of  holes.  The  stairs 
have  been  patched  here  and  there,  but  look  perilous  and  sway  beneath  the  feet, 
A  low  door  on  the  landing  is  opened  by  a  bundle  of  rags  antl  fil:h,  out  of  which 
issues  a  'soman's  voice  in  husky  tones,  bidding  us  enter.  She  has  La  grippe. 
,We  have  to  stand  very  close  together,  for  the  room  is  small,  and  already 
contains  three  women,  a  man,  a  baby,  a  bedstead,  a  stove,  and  indescribable 
dirt  \  The  atmosphere  is  rank  with  impurity.  The  man  is  evidently  dying.' 
Seven  weeks  ago  he  was  "  gripped."  He  is  now  in  the  last  stages  of  pnetunonia.' 
Em  has  tried  to  induce  him  to  be  removed  to  the  hospital,  and  he  gasps  oiit  ^b 
desire  "  to  die  in  comfort  in  my  own  bed."  Comfort !  The  "  bed  "  is  a  rack 
heaped  withrags.    Sheets,  pillow-cases,  and  night-clothes  are.  not  in  vogue  ia, 


IL 


OlRTr  DRINK,   AND    DEATH. 


163 


idertng  in. 
int  we  en- 
just  going 
tones  of  a 
iistinguish 
;e  dreadful 
There  is  a 

all;*,  which 
ht,  thereby 
ng  houses, 
id  so  it  has 
e  were  told 
d  the  door- 
along  the 
ng  without 

d  the  night 

and  sleep 

ig ;  we  are 

we  heard 
;e  discover 
>n.  In  the 
in  which  :s 
)ones,  rags 
s  her  room 
)eal  to  the 
ig,  for  fear 
il  enemies. 
haky  steps 

The  stairs 
th  the  feet, 
t  of  which 
La  grippe. 
nd  already 
lescribable 
itly  dying.' 
fneumooia.' 
ips  oiit  ^is 

"  is  a  rack 
n  vogue  ia, 


tllc.^^ms.  A  woman  ,1^58  asleep  ©•' the  dir-ty  flpor  with  her  head  under  the 
table. '?•- Another  woman,  who  has  been  sharing  the  night  watch  with  thei^yalid's 
wife,  is  finishing  her  morning  meal,  in  which  roast  oysters  on  the  half  shell  are 
conspicuous.  A  child  that  appears  never  to  have  been  washed  toddles  about 
the  floor  and  tumbles  over  the  sleeping  woman's  form.  Em  gives  it  some  gruel, 
and  ascertains  that  its  name  is  "  Christine." 

The  dirt,  crowding,  and  smells  in  the  first  place  are  characteristic  ot  half  a 
dozen  others  we  visited.  We  penetrate  to  garrets  and  descend  into  cellars. 
The  "rear  houses"  are  particularly  dreadful.  Everywhere  there  is  decaying 
garbage  lying  about,  and  the  dead  cats  and  rats  are  evidence  that  there  are 
mighty  hunters  among  the  gamins  of  the  Fourth  Ward.  We  find  a  number  ill 
from  the  grip  and  consequent  maladies.  None  of  the  sufferers  will  entertain 
the  thought  of  seeking  a  hospital.  One  probably  voices  the  opinion  of  the 
majority  when  he  declares  that  "  they'll  wash  you  to  death  there."  For  these 
people  a  bath  possesses  more  terror  than  the  gallows  or  the  grave. 

In  one  rv,om,  with  a  wee  window,  lies  a  woman  dying  of  consumption ;  wasted, 
wan,  c  id  v/retched,  lying  on  rags  and  swarming  with  ^  e^min.  Her  little  son, 
a  boy  of  eight  years,  nest^les  beside  her.  His  cheeks  arc  scarlet,  his  eyes 
feverishly  bright,  and  he  has  a  hard  cou^';. 

"  It's  the  chills,  mum,"  says  the  little  chap. 

Six  beds  stand  close  together  in  another  roon  ;  one  is  empty.  Three  days 
?go  a  woman  died  there  and  the  body  has  just  been  taken  away.  It  hasn't 
disturbed  the  rest  of  the  inmates  to  have  death  present  there.  A  woman  is 
lying  on  the  wrecks  of  a  bedstead,  slats  and  posts  sticking  out  in  every  direction 
from  the  rags  on  which  she  reposes. 

"  It  broke  under  me  in  the  night,"  she  explains.  "A  woman  is  sick  and  wants 
Liz  to  say  a  prayer.  We  kneel  on  the  Slthy  floor.  Soon  all  my  faculties  are 
absorbed  in  speculating  which  will  arrive  '^-st,  the  "Amen"  or  the  "B  flat" 
which  is  wending  its  way  towards  me.  This  time  the  bug  does  not  get  there, 
^\nd  I  enjoy  grinding  him  under  the  sole  of  my  Slum  shoe  when  the  prayer  is 
ended. 

In  another  room  we  find  what  looks  like  a  corpse.  It  is  a  woman  in  an  opium 
stupor.    Drunken  men  are  brawling  around  her. 

Returning  to  our  tenement,  Em  and  Liz  meet'us,  ar*^  ^re  return  to  our  expcH- 
ence.  >The  minor  details  wry  slightly,  but  the  story  is  the  same  piteous  tale  of 
woe  everywhere,  and  crime  abounding,  conditipns  which  only  change  to  a  prisoa^ 
a  plunge  in  the  river,  or  the  Potter's  field. 

Tba  Dark  Continent  can  show  no  lower  de'pth'ol, degradation  thai) Iffit 
sounded  by  the  dwellers  of  the  dark  alleys  ja  Cherry  HiU.  There  isn't  arVl;^, 
missing  TA  that  .quaver;  .IBveyry  siq  in  tbe^^ecalqgue  flp^FigH'e«|(ih  that  f^efitof 
penitentiaries  ao(i',;.(iW8iM»s.  ..And  avan  as  Jta.MKwri  ia^Mmit  ^^mm\iiivi:^^ik 


I    il 


164 


A  SLUM    CRUSADE 


poisons  the  veins  of  our  social  life  so  the  malarial  fiUli^  with  which  the  locality 
reeks  must  sooner  or  later  spread  disease  and  death. 

An  awful  picture,  truly,  but  one  which  is  to  me  irradiated  with  the 
love-light  which  shone  in  the  eyes  of  "  Em's  serious,  sweet,  saint- 
like face." 

Here  is  my  second.  It  was  written  by  a  journalist  who  had  just 
witnessed  the  scene  in  Whitechapel.     He  writes  : — 

I  had  just  passed  Mr.  Barnett's  church  when  I  was  stopped  by  a  small  crowd 
at  a  street  corner.  There  were  about  thirty  or  forty  men,  women,  and  children 
standing  looccly  together,  some  others  were  lounging  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street  round  the  door  of  a  public-house.  In  the  centre  of  the  crowd  was  a 
plain-looking  little  woman  in  Salvation  Army  uniform,  with  her  eyes  closed, 
praying  the  "  dear  Lord  that  he  would  bless  these  dear  people,  and  save  them, 
save  them  now  1 "  Moved  by  curiosity,  I  pressed  through  the  outer  fringe  of 
the  crowd,  and  in  doing  so,  I  noticed  a  woman  of  another  kind,  also  invoking 
Heaven,  but  in  an  altogether  different  fashion.  Two  dirty  tramp-like  men 
were  listening  to  the  prayer,  standing  the  v/hile  smoking  their  short  cutty 
pipco.  For  some  reason  or  other  they  had  offended  the  woman,  and  she 
was  giving  them  a  piece  of  her  mind.  They  stood  stolidly  silent  while  she  went 
at  them  like  a  fiend.  She  had  been  good-looking  once,  but  was  now  horribly 
bloated  with  drink,  and  excited  by  passion.  I  heard  both  voices  at  the 
same  time.  What  a  contrast  I  The  prayer  was  over  now  and  a  oleading  earnest 
address  was  being  delivered. 

"You  are  v/rong,"  said  the  voice  in  the  centre  "you  know  you  are;  all 
this  misery  and  poverty  is  a  proof  of  it.  You  are  prodigals.  You  have  got 
away  from  your  Father's  house,  and  you  are  rebelling  against  Him  every  day. 
Can  you  wonder  that  there  is  so  much  hunger,  and  oppression,  and  ivretcfaed- 
ness  allowed  to  come  upon  you  ?  In  the  midst  of  it  all  your  Father  loves  you. 
He  wants  you  to  return  to  Him ;  to  turn  your  backs  upon  your  sins ;  abandon 
your  evil  doings  ;  give  up  the  drink  and  the  service  of  the  devil.  He  has  given 
His  Son  jesus  Christ  to  die  for  you.  He  wants  to  save  you.  Come  to  His  feet 
He  is  waiting.  His  arms  are  open.  I  know  the  devil  has  got  fast  hold  ot 
you ;  but  Jesus  will  give  you  grace  to  conquer  him.  He  will  help  you  to 
master  your  wicked  habits  and  your  love  of  drink.  But  come  to  Him  now.  God  is 
love.    He  loves  me.    He  loves  you.    He  loves  us  all.    He  wants  to  save  us  alL" 

Clear  and  strong  the  voice,  eloquent  with  the  fervour  of  intense 
feeling,  rang  through  the  little  crowd,  pasf  which  streamed  the  ever- 
flowing  tide  of  East  End  life.  And  at  the  same  time  that  I  heard 
this  pure  and  passionate  invocation  to  love  God  and  be  true  to  man  I  heard 
a  voice  on  the  outskirts,  and  it  said  this :  "  You  •- — rr—  swine  I  111  knock 
the  vitals  out  of  yer.     None   of  your  — — .  im^udsftce   to   me.    •— — 


e  locality 

with  the 
:t,  saint- 
had  just 

13U  crowd 
i  children 
te  side  of 
iwd  was  a 
;s  closed, 
ave  them, 
fringe  of 
invoking 
-like  men 
hoTt  cutty 
and  she 
;  she  went 
V  horribly 
!S  at  the 
ig  earnest 

are;  all 
have  got 

;veiy  day. 

ivretched- 

oves  you. 
abandon 

has  given 
His  feet 
:  hold  ot 
>  you  to 
God  is 
eusalL" 
intense 
the  ever- 

I  heard 

I I  heard 
U  knock 


AT    A    SLUM    POST. 


165 


your eyes,  what  do  you  mean  by  telling  me  that  ?    You  know  what  you 

ha*  done,  and  now  you  are  going  to  the  Salvation  Army.  I'll  let  them  know  ycu, 
you  dirty  rascal."    The  man  shifted  his  pipe.    "  What's  the  matter?"    "  Matter!' 

screamed  the  virago  hoarsely.  " yerliie, don'tyouknowwhat'sthematter  ? 

I'll  matter  ye,  you hound.    By  God  1 1  will,  as  sure  as  I'm  alive.  Matter ! 

you  know  what's  the  matter,"  And  so  she  went  on,  the  men  standing  silently 
smoking  until  at  last  she  took  herself  off,  her  mouth  fiall  of  oaths  and  cursing,  to 
the  public-house.  It  seemed  as  though  the  presence,  and  spirit,  and  words  of 
the  Officer, who  still  went  on  with  the  message  of  mercy,  had  some  strange  effect 
upon  them,  which  made  these  poor  wretches  impervious  to  the  taunting,  bittei 
sarcasms  of  this  brazen,  blatant  virago. 

"  God  is  love."  Was  it  not,  then,  the  accents  of  God's  voice  that 
sounded  there  above  the  din  of  the  street  and  the  sv/earing  of  the 
slums?  Yea,  verily,  and  that  voice  ceases  not  and  will  not  cease,  so 
long  as  the  Slum  Sisters  fight  under  the  banner  of  the  Salvation 
Army. 

To  form  an  idea  ot  the  immense  amount  of  good,  temporal  and 
spiritual,  which  the  Slum  Sister  is  doing ;  you  need  to  follow  them 
into  the  kennels  where  they  live,  preaching  the  Gospel  with  the  mop 
and  the  scrubbing  brush,  and  driving  out  the  devil  with  soap  and 
water.  In  one  oi  our  Slum  posts,  where  the  Officer's  rooms  were  on  the 
ground  floor,  about  fourteen  other  lamilies  lived  in  the  same  house. 
One  little  water-closet  in  the  back  yard  had  to  do  service  for  the 
whole  place.  As  for  the  dirt,  one  Officer  writes,  "  It  is  impossible  to 
scrub  the  Homes  ;  some  oi  them  are  in  such  a  filthy  condition,  y/hen 
they  have  a  fire  the  ashes  are  lett  to  accumulate  for  days.  The 
table  is  very  seldom,  if  ever,  properly  cleaned,  dirty  cups  and 
saucers  lie  about  it,  together  with  bits  of  bread,  and  if  they  hav£ 
bloaters  the  bones  and  heads  are  left  on  the  table.  Sometimes  there  are 
pieces  of  onions  mixed  up  with  the  rest.  The  floors  are  in 
a  very  much  worse  condition  than  the  street  pavements,  and  v^hen 
they  are  supposed  to  clean  them  thej'  do  it  with  about  a  pint  of  dirty 
water.  When  they  wash,  which  is  rarely,  for  washing  to  them 
seems  an  unnecessary  work,  they  do  it  in  a  quart  or  two  of  water, 
and  sometimes  boil  the  things  in  some  old  saucepan  in  which  they 
cook  their  food.  They  do  this  simply  because  they  have  no  larger 
vessel  to  wash  in.  The  vermin  fall  off  th'^  walls  and  ceili.ng  on  you 
while  you  are  standing  in  the  rooms.  Some  v.f  the  walls  are  covered 
with  marks  where  they  have  killed  them.  Many  people  fia  the 
fummer  sit  on  the  door  steps  all  night,  the  reason  for  this  beingv  tiict 


I  'ii 


■M'i'\ 


ii 


i'ii 


1^  ■il 


i-, 


i 


I 

i 


166 


A~SLUM    CRUSADE. 


their  rooms  are  so  close  from' the  heat  and  so.  unendurable  from  the 
vermin  that  they  prefer  staying  out  in '  the  cool  'night  air. '  But  as 
they  cannot  stay  anywhere  long  without  drinking,  they  send  for  beer 
from  the  neighbouring  public — alas  !  never  far  away—and  pass  it  from 
one  doorway  to  another,  the  result  being  singing,  shouting  and  fight-" 
ing  up  till  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.".^ 

I  could  fill  volumes  with  stories  of  the  war  against  vermin,  which 
is  part  of  this  campaign  in  the  slums,  but  the  subject  is  too  revolting 
to  those  whp  are  often  indifierent  to  the  agonies  their  fellow  creatures 
suffer,  so  long  as  their  sensitive  ears  are  not  shocked  by  the  mention 
of  so  painful  a  subject.  Here,  for  instance,  is  a  sample  of  the  kind 
of  region  in  which  the  Slum  Sisters  spend  themselves : — 

"In  an  apparently  respectable  street  near  Oxford  street,  the  Officers 
where  visiting  one  day  when  they  saw  a  very  dark  staircase  leading 
into  a  cellar,  and  thinking  it  possible  that  someone  might  be  there 
they  attempted  to  go  down,  and  yet  the  staircase  was  so  dark  they 
thought  it  impossible  for  anyone  to  be  there.  However,  they  tried 
again  and  groped  their  way  along  in  the  dark  for  some  time  until  at 
last  they  found  the  door  and  entered  the  room.  At  first  they  could 
not  discern  anything  because  of  the  darkness.  But  after  they  got 
used  to  it  they  saw  a  filthy  room.  There  was  no  fire  in  the  grate,  but 
the  fire-place  was  heaped  up  with  ashes,  an  accumulation  of  several 
weeks  at  least.  At  one  end  of  the  room  there  was  an  old  sack  of 
rags  and  bones  partly  emptied  upon  the  floor,  from  which  there  came 
a  most  unpleasant  odour.  At  the  other  end  lay  an  old  man  very  ill. 
The  apology  for  a  bed  on  which  he  lay  was  filthy  and  had  neither 
sheets  nor  blankets.  His  covering  consisted  of  old  rags. ^^- His  poor 
wife,  who  attended  on  him,  appeared  to  be  a  stranger  to  soap  and 
water.  These  *SIum  Sisters  nursed  the' old  people,  and  on  one 
occasion  undertook  to  do  C  ir  washing,  and  they  brought  it  heme  to 
their  copper  for  this  purpose,  but  it  was  so  infested  with  vermin  that 
they  did  not  know  how  to  wash  it.  '^^Tpieir  landlady,  who  happened 
to  see  them,  forbade  them  ever  to  bring  such  stuff  there  any  more. 
The  old  man,  when  well  enough,'  worked  at  his  trade,  which  was 
tailoring.  -They^  had  Jwo  shillings  and  sixpence  per  week  from  the 
parish."  v 

^Jiere  is  a  report  from  the  headquarters  of  our  Slum  Brigade  as  to 
the  work  which. the  Slum  Sisters  have  done.. 

It 'iafaJmostv  four  c- years  since  the  Slum  Work' was  r  started  in 
London.    The  ^principal  work  done  by^our  first  .D£;ceift  was  that  oC 


mm^ 


SOME    SLUM    TROPHIES. 


167 


oni  the 
But  as 
for  beer 
3  it  from 
id  fight-^ 

which 
evolting 
Features 
mention 
he  kind 

Officers 

leading 
)e  there 
irk  they 
ley  tried 

until  at 
y  could 
hey  got 
rate,  but 

several 
sack  of 
Te  came 
very  ill. 

neither 
lis  poor 
oap  and 
on  one 
heme  to 
ain  that 
ippened 
y  more, 
ich  was 
rom  the 

leas  to 

irted  in 
that  of. 


visiting  the  sick,  cleansing  the  homes  of  the  Slummers,  and  of 
feeding  the  hungry.  The  following  are  a  few  of  the  cases  of  those 
who  have  gained  temporally,  as  well  as  spiritually,  through  our 
work : — 


Mrs.  W. — Of  Haggerston  Slum. 


Heavy  drinker,  wrecked  home,  husband 
Saved  now  over  two  years, 


a  drunkard,  place  dirty  and  filthy,  terribly  poor. 

home  Ai.,  plenty  of  emplovment  at  cane-chair  bottoming;  husband  now  saved 

also.  „   V    '    . 

Mrs.  R— Drury  Lane  Slum.  Husband  and  wife,  drunkards ;  husband  very 
lazy,  only  worked  when  starved  into  it.  We  found  them  both  out  of  work, 
.home  furnitureless,  in  debt.  She  got  saved,  and  our  lasses  prayed  for  him  to  get 
work.  He  did  so,  and  went  to  it.  He  fell  out  again  a  few  weeks  after,  and  beat  his 
wife.  She  sought  employment  at  charing  and  office  cleaning,  got  it,  and  has 
been  regularly  at  work  since.  He  too  got  work.  He  is  now  a  teetotaler.  The 
home  is  very  comfortable  now,  and  they  are  putting  money  in  the  bank. 

A.  M.  in  the  Dials.  Was  a  great  drunkard,  thriftless,  did  not  go  to  the 
trouble  of  seeking  work.  Was  in  a  Slum  meeting,  heard  the  Captain  speak  on 
"  Seek  first  the  Kingdom  of  God  1 "  called  out  and  said,  *'  Do  you  mean  that  if  I 
ask  God  for  work,  He  will  give  it  me  ?  "  Of  course  she  said,  "  Yes."  He  was 
converted  that  night,  found  work,  and  is  now  employed  in  the  Gas  Works,  Old 
Kent  Road.  '       •' 

Jimmy  is  a  soldier  in  the  Boro'  Slum.  Was  starving  when  he  got  converted 
through  being  out  of  work.  Through  joining  the  Army,  he  was  turned  out  ot 
his  home.  He  found  work,  and  now  owns  a  coffee-stali  in  Billingsgate  Market, 
and  is  doing  well 

Sergeant  R. — Of  Marylebone  Slum.  Used  to  drink,  lived  in  a  wretched 
place  in  the  famous  Charles  Street,  had  work  r.t  two  places,  at  one  of 
which  he  got  5s.  a  week,  and  the  other  los.,  wli  jn  he  got  saved ;  this  was 
starvation  wages,  on  which  to  keep  himself,  his  wile,  and  four  children.  At  the 
IDS.  a  week  work  he  had  to  deliver  drink  for  a  sj-irit  merchant;  feeling  con- 
demned over  it,  he  gave  it  up,  and  was  out  of  work  for  weeks.  The  brokers 
were  put  in.  but  the  Lord  rescued  him  just  in  time.  The  Js.  a  week  employer 
took  him  afterwards  at  l8s.,  and  he  is  now  earning  22s.,  and  has  left  the  ground- 
floor  Slum  tenement  for  a  better  house. 

H, — Nine  Elms  Skim,  Was  saved  on  Easter  Monday,  out  of-  work 
several  weeks  before,  is  a  labourer,  seems  very  earnest,  m  terrible  distress. 
We  allow  his  wife  2s.  6d,  a  week  for  cleaning  the  hall  (to  help  themV  In 
addition  to  that,  she  gets  another  2s.  6d,  ior  nursing,  and  on  that  husband,  wife, 
and  a  coupl**  of  children  pay  the  rent  of  2s.  a  week  and  drag  out  an  existence! 
I  have  tried  to  get  work  for  this  man,  but  have  failed. 


ih 


:''>0 


-f 


■  ;; 


168 


A    SLUM    CRUSAOE. 


3i  'HI 

llliji 


T.— Of  Rotherhithc  Slum.    Was  a  great  drunkard,  is  a  carpenter  -  saved 
about  nine  months  ago,  but,  having  to  work  in  a  public-house  on  a  Sunday, 
he  gave  it  up  ;  he  has  not  been  able  to  get  another  job,  and  has  nothing  but 
^  what  we  have  given  him  for  making  seats. 

Emma  Y. — Now  a  Soldier  of  the  Marylebone  Slum  Post,  was  a  wild 
young  Slummer  when  we  opened  in  the  Boro' ;  could  be  generally  seen  in  the 
streets,  wretchedly  clad,  her  sleeves  turned'  up,  idle,  only  worked  occasionally, 
got  saved  two  years  ago,  had  terrible  persecution  in  her  home.  We  got  her  a 
situation,  where  she  has  been  for  nearly  eighteen  months,  and  is  now  a  good 
servant 

Lodging-House  Frank. — At  twenty-one  came  into  the  possession  of  j^75o, 
but,  through  drink  and  gambling,  lost  it  all  in  six  or  eight  months,  and  for  over 
seven  years  he  has  tramped  about  from  Portsmouth,  through  the  South  of 
England,  and  South  Walea,  from  one  lodging-house  to  another,  often  starving, 
drinking  when  he  could  get  any  money ;  thriftless,  idle,  no  heart  for  work. 
We  found  him  in  a  lodging-house  six  months  ago,  living  with  a  fallen  girl ;  got 
them  both  saved  and  married  ;  five  weeks  after  he  got  work  as  a  carpenter  at 
30s.  a  week.  He  has  a  home  of  his  own  now,  and  promises  well  to  make  an 
Officer. 

The  OfKcer  who  furnishes  the  above  reports  goes  on  to  say : — 

I  can't  call  the  wretched  dwelling  home,  to  which  drink  had  brought  Brother 
and  Sister  X.  From  a  life  of  luxury,  they  drifted  down  by  degrees  to  one  room 
in  a  Slum  tenement,  surrounded  by  drunkards  and  the  vilest  characters.  Their 
lovely  half-starved  children  were  compelled  to  listen  to  the  foulest  language, 
and  hear  fighting  and  quarrelling,  and  alas,  alas,  not  only  to  hear  it  in  the 
adjoining  rooms,  but  witness  it  v/ithin  their  ov.'n.  For  over  two  years  they 
have  been  delivered  from  the  power  of  the  cursed  drink.  Th«*  .'d  rookery  is 
gone,  and  now  they  have  a  comfortably-furnished  home.  Their  children  give 
evidence  of  being  truly  converted,  and  have  a  lively  gratitude  for  their  father's 
salvation.  One  boy  of  eight  said,  last  Christmas  Day,  "  I  remember  wheh  we 
had  only  dry  bread  for  Christmas ;  but  to-day  we  had  a  goose  and  two  plum- 
puddings."  Brother  X.  was  dismissed  in  disgrace  from  his  situation  as 
commercial  traveller  before  his  conversiotij  to-day  he  is  chief  man,  next  to  his 
employer,  in  a  large  business  house. 

He  says  : — 

I  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  very  few  of  the  lowest  strata  of  Society  are  un- 
willing to  work  if  they  could  get  it.  The  wretched  hand-to-mouth  cvistencc 
many  of  them  have  to  live  disheartens  them,  and  makes  life  with  them  either  a 
feast  or  a  famine,  and  drives  those  who  have  brains  enough  to  crime. 


RESULTS  ALREADY  ATTAINED. 


169 


The  results  of  our  work  in  the  Slums  may  be  put  down  a^  : — 

1st.  A  marked  improvement  in  the  cleanliness  of  the  homes  and 
children  ;  disapp***' ranee  of  vermin,  and  a  considerable  lessening  of 
drunkenness. 

2nd.  A  greater  respect  for  true  religion,  and  esoecially  that  of  the 
Salvation  Army. 

3rd.  A  much  larger  amount  of  work  is  being  done  now  than 
beTore  our  going  there. 

4th.  The  rescue  of  many  fallen  girls. 

5th.  The  Shelter  work  seems  to  us  a  development  of  the  Slum 
work. 

In  connection  with  our  Scheme,  we  propose  to  immediately 
increase  the  numbers  of  these  Slum  Sisters,  and  to  add  to  their  use- 
fulness by  directly  connecting  their  operations  with  the  Colony, 
enabling  them  thereby  to  help  the  poor  people  to  conditions  of  life 
more  favourable  to  health,  morals,  and  religion.  This  would  be 
accomplished  by  getting  some  of  them  employment  in  the  City,  which 
must  necessarily  result  in  better  homes  and  surroundings,  or  in  the 
opening  up  for  others  of  a  straight  course  from  the  Slums  to  the 
Farm  Colony.  . 


'I    !    \\ 


It 
fit, 

I 


Ml 


/i.r'l 


:.J 


Section  2— THE  TRAVELLING  HOSPITAL. 


Of  course,  there  is  only  one  real  remedy  for  this  Si.ate  of  things, 
and  that  is  to  take  the  people  away  from  the  wretched  hovels  in 
which  they  sicken,  suffer,  and  die,  with  less  comfort  and  considera- 
tion than  the  cattle  in  the  stalls  and  styes  of  many  a  country 
Squire.  And  this  is  certainly  our  ultimate  ambition,  but  for  the 
present  distress  something  might  be  done  on  the  lines  of  district 
nursing,  which  is  only  in  very  imperfect  operation. 

J  have  been  thinking  that  if  a  little  Van,  drawn  by  a  pony,  could 
be  fitted  up  with  what  is  ordinarily  required  by  the  sick  and  dying, 
and  trot  round  amongst  these  abodes  of  desol'-'ion,  with  a  couple  of 
nurses  trained  for  the  business,  it  might  l  of  immense  service, 
without  being  very  costly.  They  could  have  a  few  simple  instru- 
ments, so  as  to  draw  a  tooth  or  lance  an  abscess,  and  what  was 
absolutely  requisite  for  simple  surgical  operations.  A  little  oil-stove 
for  hot  water  to  prepare  a  poultice,  or  a  hot  foment,  or  a  soap  wash, 
and  a  number  of  other  necessaries  for  nursing,  could  be  carried 
with  ease. 

The  need  for  this  will  only  be  appreciated  by  those  who  know 
how  utterly  bereft  of  all  the  comforts  and  conveniences  for  attending 
to  the  smallest  matters  in  sickness  which  prevails  in  these  abodes  of 
wretchedness.  It  may  be  suggested,  Why  don't  the  people  when 
they  are  ill  go  to  the  hospital  ?  To  which  we  simply  reply  that 
they  won't.  They  cling  to  their  own  bits  of  rooms  and  to  the  com- 
panionship of  the  members  oi  thtir  own  families,  brutrJ  as  they  often 
are,  and  would  rather  stay  and  stiSer,  and  die  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
filth  and  squalor  that  surrounds  them  in  their  own  dens,  than  go  to 
the  big  house,  which,  to  them,  looks  very  like  a  prison. 

The  sufferings  of  the  wretched  occupants  of  the  Slums  that  we  have 
been  describing,  when  sick  and  unable  to  help  themselves,  makes  the 
ojyatiisataon  of  some  system  of  nursing  tkem  in  their  own  homes  a 


SICKNESS   IN    THE    SLUMS. 


171 


of  things, 
hovels  in 
considera- 
a  country 
It  for  the 
of  district 

ony,  could 
nd  dying, 
couple  of 
e  service, 
le  instru- 
what  was 
i  oil-stove 
3ap  wash, 
e  carried 

'ho  know 
attending 
ibodes  of 
>le  when 
eply  that 
the  com- 
»ey  often 
•f  all  the 
m  go  to 

we  have 
ikes  the 
iOmes  a 


Christian  duty.  Here  are  a  handful  of  cases,  gleaned  almost  at 
random  from  the  reports  of  our  Slum  Sisters,  which  will  show  the 
value  of  the  agency  above  described  : — 

Many  of  those  who  are  sick  have  often  only  one  room,  and  often  several 
children.  The  Officers  come  across  many  cases  where,  with  no  one  to  look  after 
them,  they  have  to  lie  for  hours  without  food  or  nourishment  of  any  kind. 
Sometimes  the  neighbours  will  take  them  m  a  cup  of  tea.  It  is  really  a  mysteiy 
how  they  live. 

A  poor  woman^  in  Drury  Lane  was  paralyzed.  She  had  no  one  to  attend  to 
her ;  she  lay  on  the  floor,  on  a  stuffed  sack,  and  an  old  piece  of  cloth  to  cover 
her.  Although  it  was  winter,  she  very  seldom  had  any  fire.  She  had  no 
garments  to  wear,  and  but  very  little  to  eat 

Another  poor  woman,  who  was  very  ill,  was  allowed  a  little  money  by  her 
daughter  to  pay  her  rent  and  get  her  food ;  but  very  frequently  she  had  not  the 
strength  to  light  a  fire  or  to  get  herself  fooJ.  She  was  parted  from  her  husband 
because  of  his  cruelty.  Often  she  lay  for  hours  without  a  soul  to  visit  or  help 
her.  .. 

Adjutant  McClellan  found  a  man  lying  on  a  straw  mattress  in  a  very  bad 
condition.  The  room  was  filthy ;  the  smell  made  the  Officer  feel  ill.  The  man 
had  been  lying  for  days  without  having  anything  done  for  him.  A  cup  of  water 
was  by  his  side.    The  Officers  vomited  from  the  terrible  smells  of  this  place. 

Frequently  sick  people  are  found  vtHio  need  the  continual  application  of  hot 
poultices,  but  who  are  left  with  a  cold  one  for  hours. 

In  Marylcbone  the  Officers  visited  a  poor  old  woman  who  was  very  ill.  She 
lived  in  an  underground  back  kitchen,  with  hardly  a  ray  of  light  ind  never  a  ray 
of  sunshine.  Her  bed  was  made  up  on  some  egg  boxes.  She  had  no  one  to 
look  after  her,  except  a  drunken  daughter,  who  very  often,  when  drunk,  used  to 
knock  the  poor  old  woman  about  very  badly  The  Officers  frequently  found 
that  she  had  not  eaten  any  food  up  to  twelve  o'clock,  not  even  a  cup  of  tea  to 
drink.  The  only  fu.-niture  in  the  room  was  a  small  table,  an  old  fender,  and  a 
box.    The  vermin  seemed  to  be  innumerable. 

A  poor  woman  was  taken  very  ill,  but,  having  a  small  family,  she  felt  she 
must  get  up  and  wash  them  While  she  was  washing  the  baby  she  fell  down 
and  was  cmable  to  move.  Fortunately  a  neighbour  came  in  soon  after  to  ask 
some  question,  and  saw  her  lying  there.  She  at  once  ran  and  fetched  another 
neighbour.  Thinking  the  poor  woman  was  dead,  they  got  her  into  bed  and 
sent  for  a  doctor.  He  said  she  was  in  consumption  and  required  quiet  and 
nourishment.  This  the  poor  woman  could  not  get,  on  account  of  her  children. 
She  got  up  a  few  hours  afterwards.  As  she  was  going  downstair  she  fell 
•gw.   The  neighbour  picked  her  up  and  put  her  back  to  bed,  where  for 


I     '  .'I 


'        J 


'* 


!»■: 


If. 

.1 

li    ' 
P. 


Mi'.;-; 


.-,:  : 


172 


THE    TRAVELLING    HOSPITAL; 


a  lung  time  she  lay  thorouglily  prostrated.    The  Orficers  took  hc'>  case  in  hand, 
fed,  and  nursed  her,  cleaned  her  room  and  generally  looked  after  licr. 

In  anothctdark  slum  the  Officers  found  n  poor  old  woman  in  an  underground 
back  kitchen.  She  was  suffering  with  some  complaint.  When  they  knocked  at 
the  door  she  was  terrified  for  fear  it  was  the  landlord.  The  room  was  in  a  most 
filthy  condition,  never  having  been  cleaned.  She  had  a  penny  paraffin  lamp 
which  filled  the  room  with  smoke.  The  old  woman  was  at  times  totally  unable 
to  do  anything  for  herself.    The  Officers  looked  after  her. 


GectioI 


/, 


Oui 


)'■: 


CEcriON   3— REGZNERATION   OF   OUR  CRIMINALS.-THE  PRISON 

GATE  DRIGAUE  ' 

Our  Prisons  ought  to  be  reforming  institutions,  which  should  turn 
men  out  better  than  v.len  they  entered  their  doors.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  they  are  often  quite  the  reverse.  There  are  few  persons  in  this 
world  more  to  be  pitied  than  the  poor  fellow  who  has  served  his  first 
term  of  imprisonment  or  finds  himself  outside  the  gaol  doors  without 
a  character,  and  often  without  a  friend  in  the  world.  Here,  again, 
the  process  of  centralization,  gone  on  apace  of  late  years,  however 
desirable  it  may  be  in  tiie  interests  of  administration,  tells  with 
disastrous  effects  on  the  poor  wretches  who  are  its  victims. 

In  the  old.  times,  when  a  man  was  sent  to  prison,  the  t'^ol 
stood  within  a  stone's  throw  of  his  horfie.  When  he  came  out  he  was 
at  any  rate  close  to  his  old  friends  and  relations,  who  would  take  him  in 
and  give  him  a  helping  hand  to  start  once  more  a  nev/ life.  Butwhathas 
liappcned  owing  to  the  desire  of  the  Government  to  do  away  with  as 
many  local  gaols  as  possible  ?  The  prisoners,  when  convicted,  are 
sent  long  distances  by  rail  to  the  central  prisons,  and  on  coming  out 
find  themselves  cursed  with  the  brand  of  the  gaol  bird,  so  far  from 
home,  character  gone,  and  with  no  one  to  fall  back  upon  for  counsel, 
or  to  give  them  a  helping  hand.  No  wonder  it  is  reported  that 
vagrancy,  has  much  increased  in  some  large  towns  on  account  of 
discharged  prisoners  taking  to  begging,  having  no  other  resource. 

In  the  competition  for  v.;ork  no  employer  is  likely  to  take  a  man 
wh<i  is  fresh  from  gaol ;  nor  arc  mistresses  likely  to  engage  a 
servant  whose  last  character  was, her  discharge  from  one  of  Her 
Majesty's  prisons.  It  is  incredible  how  muth  mischief  is  often  done 
by  well-meaning  persons,  who,  in  struggling  towards  the  attainment 
of  an  excellent  end — such,  for  instance,  as  that  of  economy  an4 
efficiency  in  prison  administration — forget  entirely  the  bearing  which 
theif  reforms  ma^have  upon  the  prisoners  themselves. 


'I 

1 


p." 


r  »■■ 


-,  I; .  : .  i; 


I 


>  '    .1 


174 


THE    PRISON   GATE    BRIGADE. 


The  Salvation  Army  has  at  least  one  great  qualification  for  dealing 
with  this  question.  I  believe  I  am  in  the  proud  position  of  being  at  the 
head  of  the  only  religious  body  which  has  always  some  of  its 
members  in  gaoi  for  conscience'  sake.  We  are  also  one  of  the  few 
religious  bodies  which  can  boast  that  many  of  those  who  are  in  our 
rgnks  have  gone  through  terms  of  penal  servitude.  We,  therefore, 
know  the  prison  at  both  ends.  Some  iijen  go  to  gaol  because  they 
are  better  than  their  neighbours,  most  men  because  they  are  worse. 
Martyrs,  patriots,  reformers  of  all  kinds  belong  to  the  first  category. 
No  great  cause  has  ever  achieved  a  triumph  before  it  has  furnished 
a  certain  quota  to  the  prison  population.  The  repeal  of  an  unjust 
law  is  seldom  carried  until  a  certain  number  of  those  who  are 
labouring  for  the  reform  have  experienced  in  their  own  persons  the 
hardships  of  fine  and  imprisonment.  Christianity  itself  would  never 
have  triumphed  over  the  Paganism  of  ancient  Rome  had  rhe  early 
Christians  not  been  enabled  to  testify  from  the  dungeon  and  the 
arena  as  to  the  sincerity  and  serenity  of  soul  with  which  they  could 
confront  their  persecutors,  and  from  that  .ime  down  to  the  success- 
ful struggles  of  our  people  for  the  right  of  public  meeting  at  Whit- 
church and  elsewhere,  the  Christian  religion  and  the  liberties  of  men 
have  never  failed  to  demand  their  qu  ta  of  martyrs  ^or  the  faith. 

When  a  man  has  been  to  prison  in  the  best  of  causes  he  learns  to 
look  at  the  question  of  prison  discipline  with  a  much  more  sympa- 
thetic eye  for  those  who  are  sent  there,  even  for  the  worst  offences, 
than  judges  and  legislators  who  only  look  at  (he  prison  from  the 
outside.  "  A  fellow-feeling  makes  one  wondrous  kind,"  and  it  is  an 
immense  advantage  to  us  in  dealing  witli  the  criminal  classes  that 
many  of  our  best  Officers  have  themselves  I^een  in  a  prison  cell. 
Our  people,  thank  God,  have  never  learnt  to  regard  a  prisoner  as  a 
mere  convict — A  234.  He  is  ever  a  human  being  to  them,  who  is  to 
Le  cared  for  and  hoked  after  as  a  mother  looks  after  her  ailing  child. 
At  present  there  seems  to  be  but  little  likelihood  of  any  real  reform 
in  the  interior  of  our  prisons.  We  have  therefore  to  wait  until  the 
men  come  outside,  in  order  to  see  what  can  be  done.  Our  work 
begins  when  that  of  the  prison  authorities  ceases.  We  have  already 
had  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  this  work,  both  here  and  in  Bombay, 
ir  Ceylon,  in  South  Africa,  in  Au.stralia  and  elsewhere,  and  as  the  nett 
result  of  our  experience  we  proceed  now  to  set  fort!i  the  measures 
we  intend  to  adopt,  some  of  which  are  already  in  .^.successful 
operation. 


possil 

King' 

One 

in  di 

great 

whic 

can 

only 

2. 


Tr 


•I      !, 


»r  dealing 
■ing  at  the 
e  of  its 
|f  the  few 
re  in  our 
therefore, 
use  ihe3' 
Ire  worse, 
category, 
rnished 
^n  unjust 
who  are 
sons  the 
lid  never 
the  early 
and  the 
ey  could 
succcss- 
at  Whit- 
'  of  men 
ith. 

learns  to 
sympa- 
Jffenccs, 
rom  the 
it  is  an 
3es  that 
on  <:ell. 
;r  as  a 
lo  is  to 
r  child, 
reform 
itil  the 
■  work 
i  ready 
mbaj', 
e  nett 
sures 
issful 


WHAT  WE   PROPOSE  TO  DO   FOR   THE   PRISONERS.     175 

1.  We  propose  the  opening  of  Homes  for  this  class  as  near  a? 
possible  to  the  diflFerent  gaols.  One  for  men  has  just  been  taken  at 
King's  Cross,  and  will  be  occupied  as  soon  as  it  can  be  got  ready. 
One  lor  women  must  follow  immediately.  Others  will  be  required 
in  different  parts  of  the  Metropolis,  and  contiguous  to  each  of  its 
great  prisons.  Connected  v/ith  these  Homes  will  be  workshops  in 
which  the  inmates  will  be  regularly  employed  until  such  time  as  we 
can  get  them  work  elsewhere.  F'or  this  class  must  also  work,  not 
only  as  a  discipline,  but  as  the  means  for  their  own  support. 

2.  In  order  to  save,  as  far  as  possible,  first  offenders  from  me 
contamination  of  prison  life,  and  to. prevent  the  formation  of  further 
evil  companionships,  and  the  recklessness  which  follows  thf  loss  of 
character  entailed  by  imprisonment,  we  would  offer,  in  the  Police 
and  Criminal  Courts,  to  take  such  offenders  under  our  v/ing  as  were 
anxious  to  come  and  willing  to  accept  our  regulations.  The  confidence 
of  both  magistrates  and  prisoners  would,  Wc  *aink,  soon  be  secured, 
the  friends  of  the  latter  would  be  mostly  ..■  our  side,  and  the  probability, 
therefore,  is  that  we  should  soon  have  a  large  number  of  cases  placed 
under  our  care  on  what  is  known  as  *'  suspended  sentence,"  to  be 
brought  up  for  judgment  when  called  upon,  the  record  of  each 
sentence  to  be  wiped  out  on  report  ^eing  favourable  of  their  conduct 
in  the  Salvation  Army  Home 

3.  We  should  seek  access  to  the  prisons  in  order  to  gain  such 
aciuaintance  with  the  prisoners  as  would  enable  us  the  more  effectu- 
ally to  benefit  them  on  their  discharge.  This  privilege,  we  think, 
would  be  accorded  us  by  the  prison  authorities  when  they  became 
acquainted  with  the  nature  of  our  work  and  the  remarkable  results 
which  followed  it.  The  right  of  entry  into  the  gaols  has  already 
been  conceded  to  our  people  in  Australia,  ^here  they  have  free 
access  to,  and  communion  with,  the  mmates  while  undergoing  their 
sentences.  Prisoners  are  recommended  to  come  to  us  by  the  gaol 
authorities,  who  also  forward  to  our  people  information  of  the  date 
and  hour  when  they  leave,  in  order  that'they  may  be  met  on  their 
release. 

4.  We  propose  to  meet  the  criminals  at  the  prison  gates  with  the 
offer  of  immediate  admission  to  our  Homes.  The  general  rule  is  for 
them  ,to  be  met  by  their  friends  or  old  associates,  who  ordinarily 
belong  to  the  same  class.  Any  v»'ay,  it  would  be  an  exception  to  the 
rule  were  they  not  all  alike  believers  in  the  comforting  and  cheering 
power  of  the  intoxicating  cup.     Hence  the  public-house  js  invariably 


I     I 


I 


., 


'176 


tHE    PRISON    GATE    BRIGADE. 


adjourned  to,  where  plans  for  further  crime  are  often  decided  upon 
straiglit  away,  resulting  frequently,  before  many  weeks  are  past,  in 
the  return  of  the  liberated  convict  to  the  confinement  from  which  he 
has  just  escaped.  Having  been  accustorned  during  confinement  to 
the  implicit  submission  of  themselves  to  the  will  of  "another,  the 
newly-discharged  prisoner  is  easily  inOuenced  by  whoever  first  gets 
liold  of  him.  Now,  v/e  propose  to  be  beforehand  with  these  old 
companions  by  taking  the  gaol-bird  under  our  wing  and  setting 
before  him  an  open  door  of  hope  the  moment  he  crosses  the 
threshold  of  the  prison,  assuring  him  that  if  he  is  willing  to  work 
and  comply  with  our  discipline,  he  never  need  know  want  any  more. 

5.  We  shall  seek  from  the  authorities  the  privilege  of  supervising 
and  reporting  upon  those  who  are  discharged  with  tickets-of-leave, 
so  as  to  free  them  from  the  humiliating  and  harassing  duty  of 
ha>^ing  to  report  themselves  at  the  police  stations. 

6.  We  shall  find  suitable  employment  for  each  individual.  If  not 
in  possession  of  some  useful  trade  or  calling  we  will  teach  him  one. 

7.  After  a  certain  length  of  residence  in  these  Homes,  if  consistent 
evidence  is  given  of  a  sincere  purpose  to  live  an  honest  life,  he  will 
be  transferred  to  the  Farm  Colony,  unless  in  the  meanwhile  friends 
or  old  employers  take  him  off  our  hands,  or  some  other  form  of 
occupation  is  obtained,  in  which  case  he  will  still  be  the  object  of 
watchful  care. 

We  shall  offer  to  all  the  ultimate  possibility  of  being  restored 
to  Society  in  this  country,  or  transferred  to  commence  life  afresh  in 
another. 

With  respect  to  results  we  can  speak  very  positively,  for  although 
our  operations  up  to  the  present,  except  for  a  short  time  some  three 
years  ago,  have  been  limited,  and  unassisted  by  the  important  acces- 
sories above  described,  yet  the  success  that  ha?  attended  them  ha.-i 
been  most  remarkable.  The  following  are  a  few  instances  which 
might  be  multiplied  : — 

J.  W.  was  met  at  prison  gate  by  the  Captain  of  the  Home  and  offered  help. 
He  declined  to  come  at  once  as  he  had  friends  in  Scotland  who  he  thought 
would  help  him  ;  but.  if  they  failed,  he  promised  to  comp  It  was  his  first 
rnnviction,  and  he  had  six  luuiilhs  for  robbing  his  employer.  His  trade  was 
that  Of  a  baker.  In  a  few  4ays  he  presented  himself  at  the  Home,  and  was 
received.  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  he  professed  conversion,  and  gave 
every  evidence  of  the  change.  For  four  months  he  was  cook  and  baker  in  the 
kitchen,  and  at  last  a  situation  as  second  hand  was  offered  for  him,  witl^e 


UaMiiiiiiiiiniiiir-i 


' 


ded  upon 
past,  in 
which  he 
lement  to 
ther,  the 
first  gets 
Jiese  old 
setting 
sscs   the 
to  work 
"Jy  more. 
>ervising 
of-Ieave, 
duty  of 

If  not 
n  one. 

nsistent 
he  will 

friends 
rorm  of 
Jject  of 

cstftrcd 
res'i  in 

:hough 
i  three 
accc'o- 
'n  lia.-s 
wliich 

!  help, 
ought 
s  first 
e  was 
i  was 
gave 
n  the 


SOME    PRISON    TROPHIES. 


177 


,  S.  Sergeant-major  of  the  Congress  Hall  Corps.  That  is  three  years  ago.  He 
;  there  to-day,  saved,  and  satisfactory  ;  a  thoroughly  useful  and  respectable  man. 
J.  P.  was  an  old  offender.  He  was  met  at  Millbank  on  the  expiration  of  his 
!st  term  (five  years),  and  brought  to  the  Home,  where  he  worked  at  his  trad6 — 
tailor.  Eventually  he  got  a  situation,  and  has  since  married.  He  has  now  a 
ood  home,  the  confidence  of  his  neighbours,  is  well  saved,  and  a  soldier  of  the 
lackney  Corps. 

C.  M.  Old  offender,  and  penal  servitude  case.  Was  induced  to  come  to  the 
lome,  got  saved,  wa.  .here  for  a  long  period,  offered  for  the  work,  and  went 
ito  the  Field,  was  L  iitenant  for  two  years,  and  eventually  married.  He  is 
o\v  a  respectable  meclianic  and  soldier  of  a  Corps  in  Derbyshire. 
J.  W.  Was  manager  m  a  large  West  End  millinery  establishment.  He  was 
cnt  out  with  two  ten-pound  packages  of  silver  to  change.  On  his  .way  he  met 
companion  and  was  induced  to  take  a  drink.  In  the  tavern  the  companion 
nade  an  excuse  to  go  outside  and  did  not  return,  and  W.  found  one  of  the 
packages  had  been  abstracted  from  his  outside  pocket.  He  was  afraid  to 
eturn,  and  decamped  with  the  other  into  the  country.  Whilst  in  a  small  town 
16  strolled  into.a  Mission  Hall;  there  happened  to  be  a  hitch  in  the  proceedings, 
he  organist  was  absent,  a  volunteer  was  called  or,  and  W.,  being  a  good 
nusician,  offered  .to  piay.  It  seems  the  music  took  hold  of  him.  In  the  middle 
of  the  hymn  he  walked  out  and  went  to  the  police  station  and  gave  himself  up. 
He  got  six  months.  When  he  came  out,  he  saw  that  Happy  George,  an  ex-gaol 
bird,  was  announced  at  the  Congress  Hall.  He  went  to  the  meeting  and  was 
induced  to  come  to  the  Home.  He  eventually  got  saved,  and  to-day  he  is  at  the 
iicad  of  a  Mission  work  in  the  provinces. 

"  Old  Dan  "  was  a  penal  servitude  case,  and  had  had  several  long  sentences. 
He  came  into  the  Home  and  was  saved.  He  managed  the  bootmaking  there 
for  ;^  long  time.  He  has  since  gone  into  business  at  Hackney,  and  is  married. 
He  is  of  four  years'  standing,  a  thorough  respectable  tradesman,  and  a 
Salvationist. 

Charles  C.  has  done  in  the  a^^gregate  twenty-tnree  years'  penal  servitude. 
Was  out  on  licence,  and  got  saved  at  the  Hull  Barracks.  At  that  time  he 
had  neglected  to  report  himself,  and  had  destroyed  his  licence,  taking  an 
assumed  name.  When  he  got  saved  he  ga^e  himself  up,  and  was  taken 
before  the  magistrate,  who,  instead  of  sending  him  back  to  fulfil  his  sentence, 
gave  him  up  to  the  Army.  He  was  sent  to  us  from  Hull  by  our  representative, 
is  now  in  our  factory  and  doing  well.  He  is  still  under  poliae  supervision  for 
five  years. 

H.  Kelst>.  Also  a  licence  man.  He  had  neglected  to  report  himselt,  and  vtbis 
arrested.  'While  before  the  magistrate  he  said  he  was  tired  of  dishonesty,  and 
wafiild  go  m  th*  SalVati<itt  Army  if  they  would  discharBe  him.    He,^%3  sent 


i(  f 


;ii:i::-^;i!;'i 


i-l 


t78 


THE    PRISC^N    GATE    BRIGADE. 


G^M 


back  to  penal  servitude.    Application  was  made  by  us  to  the  Home  Seci 
on  his  behalf,  and  Mr.  Matthews  granted  his  release.     ITe  was  handed  ovj      ..     ^ 
our  Officers  at  Bristol,  brought  to  London,  and  is  now  in  the  Factory,  aavecx       „'• 
domgwell.^  L^Uy.ai 

Pvl'W. 'belongs  to  Birmingham,  is  in  his  forty-ninth  year,  and  has  y  - 
inand  out  of  prison  all  his  life.  He  was  at  Redhill  Reformatory  five  years, 
his? last  term  was  five  years'  penal  servitude.  The  Chaplain  at  Pentor 
advised  him  if  he  really  meant  reformation  to  seek  the  Salvation  Army  oi 
release.  He  came  to  Thames  Street,  was  sent  to  the  Workshop  and  profe 
salvation  the  following  Sunday  at  the  Shelter.  This  is  three  months  ago. 
is  quite  satisfactory,  industrious,  contented  and  seemingly  godly. 

A.  B.,  Gentleman  lonfer,  good  prospects,  drink  and   idleness  broke  up 
home,  killed  his  wife,  and  got  him  into  gaol.    Presbyterian  minister,  friend  o 
famjiy,  tried  to  reclaim  him,  but  unsuccessfully.     He  entered  the  Prison 
Home,  became  thoroughly  saved,  distributed  handbills  for  the  Home,  and 
mately  got  work  in  a  large  printing  and  publishing  works,  where,  after  tl 
years'  service,  he  now  occupies  a  most  responsible  position.    Is  an  elder  in 
Presbyterian  Church,  restored  to  his" family,  and  the  possessor  of  a  happy  ho 

W.  C,  a  native  of  London,  a  good-for-nothing  lad,  idle  and  dissolute.     W' 
leaving  England  his  father  warned  him  that  if  he  didn't  alter  he'd  end  his  d 
on  the^gallows.     Served  various  sentences  on  all  sorts  of  charges.     Over 
years'ago  wc  took  him  in  hand,  admitted  him  into  Prison  Gate   Brigade  Ho 
where  he  became  truly  saved  ;  he  got  a  job  of  painting,  which  he  had  learnt 
gaol,  and  has  married  a  woman  who  had  formerly  been  a  procuress,  but  had  pas: 
through  our   Rescued  Sinners*  Home,  and  there  became  thoroughly  convert! 
jTogether  they  have  braved  the  storms  of  life,  both  working  diligently  for  thi 
living^^They  have  now  a  happy  little  home  of  their  own,  and. are  doing  v 
iwell: 

F.;JJC.^  the  "son  of  a  Government  officer,  a  drunkard. *^gambler,Torger,  ai 
all-round  blackguard ;   served  numerous  sentences   for  forgery.  ^1  On  his 
discharge  was  admitted  into  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home,  where  he  stayed  aboi 
five  months  and  became  truly  saved.    Although  jfciis,  health   was  completel 
shattered  from  the  effects  of  his  sinful  life,  he  steadfastly  resisted  all  temptatio 
to  drink,  and  kepttrue  to  Gpd.  ".Through  advertising -in^theW^tf/  Cry,  he  fou 
his  lost  son  and  daughter,  who  are  delighted  with  the  wonderful  change  ii 
their  father.    They  have  become  regular  attendants  at  our  meetings  in  thi 
Temperance  Hall.;.  He  now  keeps  a  coffee-stall,  is  doing  well,  and  properl; 
saved. 

G.  A.;  72,  spent  23  years  in  gaol,  last  sentence^  two  years  for  burglary;  wai 
ti'  drunkard,''  gambler,' and  swearer. "  Met  on  .his  discharge  by  the  Prison  Gatf] 
Brigfide,  admitted  into rfeS^^here^  he  nswain^  {oni^i^vpi^Mi^^^i 
ln\l£  sated:    HcJs  liviugiiiLConsistent,jadly.,Ufc  and  is.in_.so!iplo.XJfl«Qt» 


Y. 
lived,  w^ 
tuken  iij 
found  111 
:;nd  altj 
ihat  he 
xMony  i4 
M.  j[ 
I'aough 
Austra 
drink, 
find  hi 
andw 
Prisot 
positi' 
B. 
home 
savet 
versi 
Ukel 
in  a 
posi 

1 

rai 

wl 

It 

fa 

b1 

s< 

o 

c 


SOME    PRISON    TROPHIES." 


179 


•<p("^ 


le  Heme  Secif — "WT  .-•:■■  ■■^^' 
Kas  haiidc'I      I  ^*^'i  ^g*^  64,  opium-smoker,  gambler,  blackguard,  separated  from  wife  and 
Factory.  .ia»»  tfamily,  and  eventually  landed  in  gaol,  was  met  on  his  discharge  and  admitted 


^ory,  Bavecf 


into  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home,  was  saved,  and  is  now  restored  to  his  wife  and 

'ear,  arid  has  l^^'"*'i''  ^"^  giving  satisfaction  in  his  employment. 

toiy  five  yea    I    ^'  "'*  ^^^  ^"  ^^^^'  '°^^"&  thieving,  swearing,  disreputable  young  man,  who 

ain  at  Pent  J  'Jved,  when  out  of  gaol,  with  the  low  prostitutes  of  Little  Bourke  Street.    Was 

ation  Armv     I  ^•-^^"  *"  ^^^^  ^y  °^^  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Officers,  who  got  him  saved,  then 

hop  and  prof  1  f°""**  '"•"  work.    After  a  lew  months  he  expressed  a  desire  to  work  for  God, 

months  an     I  ""^  although  a  cripple,  and  having  to  use  a  crutch,  such  was  his  earnestness 

ly,  I  that  he  was  accepted  and  has  done  good  service  as  an  Army  officer.    His  testi- 

^ss  broke      I  '^*o"y  '^  8°°^  ^"^  ^^^  ''^^  consistent.    He  is,  indeed,  a  marvel  of  Divine  grace. 

M.  J.,  a  young  man  holding  a  high  position  in  England,  got  into  a  fast  set; 
thought  a  change  to  the  Colonies  would  be  to  his  advantage.  Started  for 
Australia  with  ;^20O  odd,  of  which  he  spent  a  good  portion  on  board  ship  in 
drink,  soon  dissipated  the  balance  on  landing,  and  woke  up  one  morning  to 
find  himself  in  gaol,  v/ith  deKriTira  tremens  on  him,  no  money,  his  luggage  lost, 
and  without  a  friend  on  the  whole  continent.  On  his  discharge  he  entered  our 
Prison  Gate  Home,  became  converted,  and  is  now  occupying  a  responsible 
position  in  a  Colonial  Bank. 

B.  C,  a  man  of  good  birth,  education,  and  position ;  drank  himself  out  of 
home  and  friends  and  into  gaol,  on  leaving  which  he  came  to  our  Home  ;  was 
saved,  exhibiting  by  an  earnest  and  truly  consistent  life  the  depth  of  his  con- 
version, being  made  instrumental  while  with  us  in  the  salvation  of  many  who, 
like  himself,  had  come  to  utter  destitution  and  crime  through  drink.  He  is  now 
in  a  first-class  situation,  getting  ;^30o  a  year,  wife  and  family  restored,  the 
possessor  of  a  happy  home,  and  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  it. 

I  do  not, produce  these  samples,  which  are  but  a  few,  taken  at 
random  from  the  many,  for  the  purpose  of  boasting.  The  power 
which  has  wrought  these  miracles  is  not  in  me  nor  in  my  Officers ; 
it  IS  power  which  comes  down  from  above.  But  I  think  i  may 
fairly  point  to  these  cases,  in  which  our  instrumentality  has  been 
blessed,  to  the  plucking  of  these  brands  from  the  burning,  as  affording 
some  justification  for  the  plea  to  be  enabled  to  go  on  with  this  work 
on  a  much  more  extended  scale.  If  any  other  organisation,  religious 
or  se<;u1"r,  can  shov/  similar  trophies  as  the  result  of  such  limited 
ogewitiqn^  as  ourshave  hitherto  been  among  the  criminal  population, 
1  am  willing  to  give  place  to  them.  All  that  I  want  is  to  have  the 
'  ork  done. 


»ster.  friend  of 
the  Prison 
e  Home,  and 
here,  after  tli 
's  an  elder  in 
o(  a  happy  1,0, 
dissolute.     VV, 
'^'"^  end  bis  ill 
'arges.     Over 
-  Brigade  Hoi 
he  had  JearntI 
's.  but  had  pas 
'"8hly  converti 
•gent/y  for  th 
I -are  doing 

err  forger,  ai 
^l  On  his  I 
e  stayed  aboi 
as  completel 
'"  temptatjo 
<^ry.  he  fou 
"J  change  n 
•"'ngs  in  th 
and  properlj 


rglaiy; 
Prisgn 


m 


\l 


I    i 


i  '  I 


■I   H 


'■■f^'ii 


1 

J 


\wm. 


wmmmmmm 


¥  \ 


'I 


,   Section  4.— EFFECTUAL  DELIVERANCE  FOR  THE  DRUNKARD. 

'  The  number,  misery,  and  hopeless  condition  of  the  slaves  of  strong 
drink,  of  both  sexes,  have  been  already  dealt  with  at  considerable 
length. 

We  have  seen  that  there  are  in.  Great  Britnn  one  million  of  men 
and  women,  or  thereabouts,  completely  under  the  domination  of  this 
cruel  appetite.  The  utter  helplessness  of  Society  to  deal  with  the 
drunkard  has  been  proved  again  and  again,  and  confessed  on  all 
hands  by  those  who  have  had  experience  on  the  subject  As  wc 
have  before  said,  the  general  feeling  of  all  those  who  have  tried  their 
hands  at  this  kind  of  business  is  one  of  despair.  They  think  the 
present  race  of  drunkards  must  be  left  to  perish,  that  every  species 
of  effort  having  proved  vain,  the  energies  expended  in  the 
endeavour  to  rescue  the  parents  will  be  laid  out  to  greater 
advantages  upon  the  children. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  all  this.  Our  own  efforts  have 
been  successful  in  a  very  remarkable  degree.  Some  of  the  bravest, 
most  devoted,  and  successful  workers  in  our  ranks  are  men  and 
women  who  were  orice  the  most  abject  slaves  of  the  intoxicating 
cup.  Instances  of  this  have  been  given  already.  We  might 
multiply  them  by  thousands.  Still,  when  compared  with  the  ghastly 
array  which  the  drunken  army  presents  to-day,  those  rescued  are 
comparatively  few.  The  great  reason  for  this  is  the  simple  fact  that 
the  vast  majority  of  those  addicted  to  the  cup  are  its  veritable 
slashes.  No  amount  of  reasoning,  or  earthly  or  religious  considerations, 
can  have  any  efiect  upon  a  man  who  is  so  completely  under  the 
mastery  of  this  passion  that  he  cannot  break  away  from  it,  although 
he  sees  the  most  terrible  consequences  staring  him  in  the  face. 

The  drunkard  promises  and  vows,  but  promises  and  vows  in 
ttititi  Occasionally  he  will  put  forth  frantic  efforts  to  deliver  himself, 
but  only  Jo  fall  again  in  the  presence  of  the  opportunity. ,_  The, 


'■1 


A  SUCCESSFUL   RESCUE. 


181 


INKARD. 

of  strong 
isidcrable 

n  of  men 
>ii  of  this 
with  the 
ed  on  all 
As  wc 
ned  their 
think  the 
y  species 
in    the 
greater 

rts  have 
bravest, 
len  and 
xicating 
might 
ghastly 
Jed  are 
let  that 
Ti  table 
ations, 
er  the 
hough 

ws  in 

tnself, 

The 


batiable  crave  controls  him.  He  cannot  get  away  from  it.  It 
Impels  him  to  drink,  whether  he  will  or  not,  and,  unless  delivered 
an  Almighty  hand,  he  will  drink  himself  into  a  drunkard's  grave 
Id  a  drunkard's  hell. 

Our  annals  team  with  successful  rescues  effected  from  the  ranks  of 
|e  drunken  army.  The  following  will  not  only  be  examples  of  this, 
lit  will  tend  to  illustrate  the  strength  and  madness  of  the  passion 

lich  masters  the  slave  to  strong  drink. 

[Barbara. — She  liad  sunk  about  as  low  as  any  woman  could  when  we  found  her. 

F;cim  the  age  of  eighteen,  when  her  parents  had  forced  her  to  tlirow  over  her 

lilor  sweetheart  and  marry  a  man  with  "good  prospects,"  she  had  been  goin?^ 

Ic;idily  down. 

She  did  not  love  her  husband,  and  soon  sought  comfort  from  the  little  public- 

i;:c  only  a  few  steps  fiein  her  own  door.     Quarrels  in  her  home  quickly  gave 

bee  to  fighting,  angry  curses,  and  oaths,  and  soon  her  life  became  one  of  the 

tost  wretched  in  the  place.     Her  husband  made  no  pretence  of  caring  for  he;, 

Ind  when  she  v«?.s  ill' and  unable  to  cam  money  by  selling  fish  in  the  street??,  lu; 

ifould  go  off  for  a  few  months,  leaving  her  to  keep  the  house  and  supf^jd: 

jerself  ana  babies  as  best  she  could.     Out  of  her  twenty  years  of  married  liic, 

(en  were  spent  in  these  on-and-off  separations.     And  so  she  got  to  live  for  only 

bne  thing — drink.    It  was  life  to  her ;  and  ti:e  msd  craving  grew  to  be  irresistible. 

The  vi^oman  who  looked  after  her  at  the  birth  of  her  child  refused  to  fetch  her 

whisky,  so  v/hen    she  had  done  all  pho  could  and  left  the  mother  to  rest, 

barbara  crept  out  of  bed  and  crawled  slowly  down  the  stairs  over  the  way  to 

[he  tap-room,  where  she  sat  drinking  with  thy  baby,  not  yet  an  hour  old,  in  her 

arms.     So  things  went  on,  until  her  ijfe  got  so  (uibearahle  that  she  determined  to 

Save  done  with  it.    Taking  her  two  eldest  children  with  her,  she  went  down  to  the 

[l)ay,  and  deliberately  threw  them  both  into  the  water,  jumping  in  herself  after 

Ifhem.     "  Oh,  mither,  mither,  dinna  droon  me  1 "  wailed  her  little  three-year-old 

[Sarah,  but  she  was  determined  and  held  theirk  under  the  water,  till,  seeing  a  boat 

[put  out  to  the  rescue  she  knew  that  she  was  discovered.     Too  late  to  do  it 

[now,  she  thought,  and,  holding  both  children,  swam  quickly  back  to  the  shore.    A 

made-up  story  about  having  fallen  into  the  water  satisfied  the  boatman,  and 

Barbara  leturncd  home  dripping  and  baffled.     But  little  Sarah  did  not  recover 

from  the  shock,  and  after  a  few  weeks  her  short  life  eoded,  and  slu:  was  Laid  in 

[the  Ccmetciy, 

Yet  another  time,  goaded  to  desperation,  she  tried  to  take  her  life  by  hanging 
herself,  but  a  neiglibour  came  in  and  cut  her  down  unconscious,  but  still  living, 
SJie  became  a  terror  to  all  the  neighbourhood,  and  her  name  was  the  bye-word 
for  daring  and  desperate  actions.  But  our  Open-Aiv  Meetings  attracted  her,  she 
came  to  the  Barracks,  got  saved,  and  was  delivered  from  her  love  of  drink  and  sin. 


'.;t.i, 


:.— rr--r=:r=:;  3:ngrrr;:xar.'S 


an 


!l' 


182       EFFEOiUAL    DELIVERANCE    FOR    THE    DRUNKARD." 


,.  From  being  a  dread  her  home  became  a  sort  of  house  of  refuge  in  the  -iittla  ^l  wei 
low  street  where  she  lived ;  other  wives  as  unhappy  as  herself  would  come  in  lorl|)jjyi  of  his 
advice  and  help.  Anyone  knew  that  Barbie  was  changed,  and  loved  to  dol  "  I  woi 
all  she  could  for  her  neighbours.  A  few  months  ago  she  came  up  to  the  CaptaiiVsli^jnonade 
-in  great  distress  over  a  woman  who  lived  just  opposite.  She  had  been  cruelly!  And  M 
kicked  and  cursed  by  her  husband,  who  had  finally  bolted  the  door  against  her, 
and  she  had  turned  to  Barbie  as  the  only  hope.  And  of  course  Barbie  took  hcil 
in,  with  her  rough-and-ready  kindness  got  her  to  bed,  kept  out  the  other  womcnj 
who  crowded  round  to  sympathise  and  declaim  against  the  husband's  brutalitv  I 
was  both  nurse  and  doctor  for  the  poor  woman  till  her  child  was  born  andl 
laid  in  the  mother's  arms.  And  then,  to  Barbie's  distress,  she  could  do  no  morcj 
for  the  woman,  not  daring  to  be  absent  longer,  got  up  as  best  she  could,  andl 
crawled  on  hands  and  knees  down  the  little  steep  step?,  across  the  street,  andl 
back  to  her  own  door.  "  But,  Barbie  !  "exclaimed  the  Captain,  horrified,  "youj 
should  have  nursed  her,  and  kept  her  until  she  was  strong  enough."  But  Barbiel 
answered  by  reminding  the  Captain  of  "John's"  fearful  temper,  and  how  itl 
might  cost  the  woman  her  life  to  be  absent  from  her  home  more  than  a  couple) 
of  hours. 

The  second  is  the  case  of— 

Maggie. — She  had  a  home,  but  seldom  was  sober  enough  to  reach  it  at  nights. ! 
She  would  fall  down  on  the  doorsteps  until  found  by  some  passer-by  or 
policeman. 

In-  one  of  her  mad  freaks  a  boon-companion  happened  to  offend  her.     He  ] 
was  a  little  hunch-back,  and  a  fellow-drunkard  ;  but  without  a  moment's  hesita- 1 
tion,    Maggie     seized    him     and    pushed    him    head-foremost  down  the  old- 
fashioned  wide  sewer  of  the  Scotch  town.     Had  not  some  one  seen  his  heels ' 
kicking  out  and  rescued  him,  he  would  surely  have  been  suffocated. 

Oiie  winter's  night  Maggie  had  been  drinking  heavily,  fighting,  too,  as  usua', 
and  she  staggered  only  as  far,  on  her  way  home,  as  the  narrow  chain-pic 
Here  s-he  stumbled  and  fell,  and  lay  along  on  the  snow,  the  blood  oozing  froi:-. 
her  cuts,  and  her  hair  spread  out  in  a  tangled  mass. 

At  5  in  the  morning,  some  factory  girls,  crossing  the  bridge  to  their  work, 
came  upon  her,  lying  stiff  and  stark  amidst  the  snow  and  darkness. 

To  rouse  her  from  her  drunken  sleep  was  hard,  but  to  raise  her  from  tho 
ground  was  still  harder.  The  matted  hair  and  Wood  bad  frozen  fast  to  th;; 
earth,  and  Maggie  was  a  prisoner.  After  trying  to  free  her  in  different  ways, 
and  receiving  as  a  reward  volleys  of  abuse  and  bad  language,  one  of  the  gir! : 
ran  for  a  kettle  of  boiling  water,  and  by  pouring  it  all  around  her,  thev  succeeded 
by  degrees  in  melting  her  on  to  her  feet  again ! 

But  she  came  to  our  Barracks,  and  got  soundly  converted,  and  the  Captaii' 
Was  rewarded^for^AightsaDd  days  of  toil  by  seeing  her  a  saved  and  sober  womao. 


I  i 


in  the.'4ittl 
I  come  in  ibrl 
loved  to  uol 
theCaptain'sl 
been  cruelly! 
>r  against  herj 
irbie  took  he\\ 
other  womeiil 
nd's  brutalit" 
'as  born  ant] 
d  do  no  more, 
ihe  could,  and 
he  street,  andf 
orrified,  "you 
"  But  Barbie 
r,  and  how  it 
than  a  couplej 


h  it  at  nights.  I 
isser-by  or  a  I 

(nd  her.     He  I 
nent's  hesita- 
»wn  the  old- 1 
:en  his  heels  i 

oo,  as  usua', 
'  chain-pic: 
oozing  fro;:: 

their  work, 

er  from  th.; 
fast  to  th: 
erent  ways 
of  the  girl: 
'  succeeded 

le  Captair 
»er  womao, 


A    WONDERFUL   CASE. 


183 


All  went  ricbt  till  a  friend  asked  her  to  his  house,  to  drink  his  health,  and 
thai  of  his  newly-married  wife. 

"  I  wouldn't  ask  you  to  take  anything  strong."  he  said.  "  Drink  to  me  with  this 
lemonade." 

And  Maggie,  nothing  suspecting,  drank,  and  as  she  drank  tasted  in  the  glass 
her  old  enemy,  whisky  I  .       '         " 

The  man  laughed  at  h   '  dismay,  but  a  friend  rushed  off  to  tell  the  Captain. 

"I  may  be  in  time,  she  has  not  really  gone  back":  and  the  Captain  ran  to  the 
house,  tying  her  bpnnet  strings  as  she  ran. 

"  It's  no  good — keep  awa' — I  don't  want  to  see'er.  Captain,"  wailed  Maggie  ; 
"  let  me  have  some  more — oh,  I'm  on  fire  inside." 

But  the  Captain  was  firm,  and  taking  her  to  her  home,  she  locked  herself  in 
with  the  woman,  and  sat  witn  the  key  in  her  pocket,  while  Maggie,  half  mad 
with  craving,  paced  the  floor  like  a  caged  animal,  threatening  and  entreating  by 
terms. 

"  Never  while  I  live,"  was  all  the  answer  she  could  get ;  so  she  turned  to  the 
door,  and  busied  hersell  there  a  moment  or  two.  A  clinking  noise,  The  Captain 
started  up — to  see  the  door  open  and  Maggie  rush  through  it  1  Accustomed 
to  stealing  and  all  its  "  dodges,"  she  had  taken  the  lock  off  the  door,  and  was 
away  to  the  nearest  public-house. 

Down  the  stairs.  Captain  after  her,  into  the  gin  palace;  but  before  the 
astonished  publican  could  give  her  the  d.-ink  she  wqis  clamouring  for,  the 
"  bonnet "  was  by  her  side,  "  If  you  dare  to  serve  her,  I'll  break  the  glass  before 
it  reaches  her  lips.  She  shall  not  have  any  1 "  and  so  Maggie  was  coaxed  away, 
and  shielded  till  the  passion  was  over,  and  she  was  herself  once  more. 

But  the  man  ^ho  gave  her  the  whisky  durst  not  leave  his  house  for  weeks. 
The  roughs  got  to  know  of  tlic  trap  he  bad  laid  for  her,  and  would  have  lynched 
him  could  they  have  got  hold  of  him. .  i. 

The  third  is  the  case  of  Rose. 

Rose  was  ruined,  deserted,  and  left  to  the  streets  when  only  a  girl  of  thirteen, 
by  a  once  well-to-do  man,  who  is  now,  we  believe,  closing  his, days  in  a  workhouse 
io  the  North  of  England. 

Fatherless,  motherless,  and  you  might  almost  say  friendless,  Rose  trod  the 
broad  way  to  destruction,  with  all  its  misery  and  shame,  for  twelve  long  years. 
Her  wild,  passionate  nature,  writhing  under  the  wrong  suffered,  sought  forget- 
ftilnass  in  the  intoxicating  cup,  and  she  soon  became  a  notorious  drunkard. 
Seveaty-four  times  during  her  career  she  was  dragged  before  the  magistrates, 
And  seventy-four  times,  with  one  exception,  she  was  punished,  but  the  seventy- 
fourth  time  she  was  as  far  off  reformation  as  ever.  The  one  exception  happened 
on  the  Queen's  Jubilee  Day.  On  seeing  her  weH-known  face  again  before  him 
the  magistrate  enquired,  "  How  many  times  has  this  woman  been  here  before 3 


%rl 


1 


1184       EFFECTUAL    DELIVERANCE    FOR    THE    DRUNKARD. 


The  Police  Superintendent  answered.  "  Fifty  times."  The  magistrate  remarked, 
in  somewhat  grim  humour,  "  Then  this  is  her  Jubilee,"  and.  moved  by  the  coinci- 
dence, he  let  her  go  free.     So  Rose  spent  her  jubilee  out  of  prison. 

It  is  a  wonder  that  the  dreadful,  drunken,  reckless,  dissipated  life  she  lived  did 
not  hurry  her  to  an  early  grave ;  it  did  affect  her  reason,  and  for  three  weeks 
she  was  locked  up  in  Lancaster  Lunatic  Asylum,  having  really  gone  mad  through 
drink  and  sin.  " 

In  evidence  of  her  reckless  nature,  it  is  said  that  after  her  second  imprison- 
ment she  vowed  she  would  never  again  walk  to  the  ptilice  station;  con- 
sequently, when  in  her  wild  orgies  the  police  found  it  necessary  to  arrest 
her,  they  had  to  ge«-  her  to  the  police  station  as  best  they  could,  somc- 
tnnes  by  requisitioning  a  wheelbarrow  or  a  cart,  or  the  use  of  a  stretcher,  and 
sometimes  they  had  to  carry  her  right  out.  On  one  occasion,  towards  the  close 
of  her  career,  when  driven  to  the  last-named  method,  four  policemen  were  carry- 
ing her  to  the  station,  and  she  was  extra  violent,  screaming,  plunging  and  biting, 
when,  either  by  accident  or  design,  on*"  of  the  policemen  let  go  of  her  head,  and 
it  came  in  contact  with  the  curbstone,  causing  the  blood  to  pour  forth  in  a  stream. 
As  soon  as  they  placed  her  in  the  cell  the  poor  creature  caught  the  blood  in  her 
hands,  and  literally  washed  Ijer  face  with  it.  On  the  following  morning  she 
presented  a  pitiable  sight,  and  before  taking  her  into  the  court  the  police  wanted 
to  wash  her,  but  she  declared  she  would  drav/  any  man's  blood  vi^ho  attempted 
to  put  a  finger  upon  her  ;  they  had  spilt  her  blood,  and  she  would  carry  it  into 
the  court  as  a  wilness  against  them.  On  coming  out  of  gaol  for  the  last  time, 
she  met  with  a  few  Salvationists  beating  the  drum  and  singing  "  Oh !  the  Lamb, 
the  bleeding  Lamb  ;  He  was  found  worthy."  Rose,  struck  with  the  song,  and 
impressed  with  the  very  faces  of  the  people,  followed  them,  saying  to  herself, 
"  I  never  before  heard  anything  like  that,  or  seen  such  happy  looking  peopJe." 
She  came  into  the  Barracks  ;  her  heart  was  broken  :  she  found  her  way  to  the 
Penitent  Form,  and  Christ,  with  His  own  precious  blood,  washed  her  sins  away. 
She  arose  from  her  knees  and  said  to  the  Captain,  "  It  is  all  right  now." 

Three  months  after  her  conversion  a  great  meeting  was  held  in  the  largest 
iiall  in  the  town,  where  she  was  known  to  almost  every  inhabitant.  There  were 
about  three  thousand  people  present.  Rose  was  called  upon  to  give  her  testi- 
mony to  the  power  of  God  to  save.  A  more  enthusiastic  wave  of  sympathy 
never  greeted  any  speaker  than  that  which  met  her  from  that  crowd,  every 
one  of  whom  was  familiar  with  her  past  history.  After  a  few  broken  words,  in 
which  she  spoke  of  the  wonderful  change  that  had  taken  place,  a  cousin,  who. 
Jike  herself,  had  lived  a  notoriously  evil  life,  came  to  the  Cross. 

Rjse  is  now  War  C*y  sergeant.  She  goes  into  the  brothels  and  gin  palaces 
^.x\<.\  other  haunts  of  vice,  from  which  she  was  rescued,  and  sells  more  papers 
iilnn'any  other  Soldier. 


ID. 

tc  remarked, 
y  the  coinci- 

he  h'ved  did 
three  weeks 
nad  through 

id  imprison- 

ation;  con- 

y  to  arrest 

'uld,   some- 

tcher,  and 

ds  the  close 

were  carry- 

and  biting, 

r  head,  and 

in  a  stream. 

lood  in  her 

orning  she 

lice  wanted 

attempted 

arry  it  into 

e  last  time, 

the  Lamb, 

song,  and 

to  herself, 

ig  peopJe." 

ivay  to  the 

sins  away. 
If 

le  largest 
here  were 
her  testi- 
sympathy 
I'd,  every 
words,  in 
sin,  who, 

I  palaces 
e  papers 


DELIVER    THEM     FROM    TEMPTATION. 


185 


The  Superintendent  of  Police,  soon  after  her  convrrsion.  told  the  Captain  of 
the  Corps  that  in  rescuing  Rose  a  more  wonderful  work  had  been  done  than  !:« 
had  seen  in  all  the  years  gone  by. 

S.  was  a  native  of  Lancaiiliire,  the  son  of  poor,  but  pious,  parents.  lie  was 
saved  when  sixteen  years  of  age.  He  was  first  an  Evangelist,  then  a  City 
Missionary  for  five  or  six  years,  and  afterwards  a  Baptist  Minister.  He 
then  fell  under  the  influence  of  drink,  resigned,  and  became  a  rommcrci:il 
traveller,  but  lost  his  berth  through  drink.  He  was  then  an  insurance  agent, 
and  rose  to  be  cupenntondent,  but  was  again  dismissed  through  drink. 
During  his  drunken  career  he  had  delirium  tremens  four  times,  attemptcil 
suicide  three  times,  sold  up  six  homes,  was  in  the  workhouse  with  his 
wife  and  family  three  times.  His  last  contrivance  for  getting  drink  was  to 
preach  mock  sermons,  and  offer  mock  prayers  in  the  tap-rooms. 

After  one  of  these  blasphemous  performances  in  a  public-house,  on  the  words, 
"  Are  you  Saved  ?  "  he  was  chall-jngcd  to  go  to  the  Salvation  Barracks.  He 
went,  and  the  Captain,  who  knew  him  well,  at  once  made  for  him,  to  plead  for 
his  soul,  but  S.  knocked  him  down,  and  rushed  back  to  the  public-house  for 
more  drink.  He  was,  hov/cver,  so  moved  by  what  he  had  heard  that  he  was 
unable  to  raise  the  liquor  to  his  mouth,  although  he  made  th.ree  attempts.  He 
again  returned  to  the  meeting,  and  again  quitted  it  for  the  public-house.  He 
could  not  rest,  and  for  the  third  time  he  relumed  to  the  Barracks.  As  he  entered 
the  last  time  the  Soldiers  were  singing  :— 

'  Depth  of  mercy,  can  there  be  • 

Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  ? 
,-,,  Can  my  God  his  wrath  forbear  ? 

r  ,  Me,  the  chief  of  Sinners,  spare?" 

This  song  impressed  him  stfJl  fnrther ;  he  wept,  and  remained  in  the  Barracks 
under  deep  conviction  until  midnight.  He  was  drunk  all  the  next  day,  vainly 
trying  to  drown  his  convictions.  The  Captain  visited  him  at  night,  but  was 
quickly  thrust  out  of  the  house.  He  was  there  again  next  morning,  and  prayed 
and  talked  with  S.  for  nearly  two  hours.  Poor  S.  was  in  despair.  He  persisted 
that  there  was  no  mercy  tor  him.  After  a  long  struggle,  however,  hope  spriuir: 
up,  he  fell  upon  hi«i  knees,  confessed  his  sins,  and  obtained  forgiveness. 

When  this  happened,  his  furniture  consisted  of  a  soap-box  for  a  table,  ai  d 
starch  boxes  for  chairs.  His  wife,  himself,  and  three  children,  had  not  sle|  ■ 
m  a  bed  for  three  years.  He  has  now  a  happy  family,  a  comfortable  home,  and 
has  been  the  means  of  leading  numbers  of  other  slaves  of  sin  to  the  Saviour,  and 
to  a  truly  happy  life. 

Similar  cases,  desci  ibing  the  deliverance  of  drunkards  from  the 
bondage  of  strong  driik,  could  ^)e  produced  indefinitely.  There  are 
Oificers  marching  in  our  ranks  to-day,  who  where  once  gnpped  by, 


1-     <• 


Vi" ';. 


■>. 


nS»    .w 


^^i^^.^. 
o  ..\:^»- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


yo  ■^"     MH 
■U  Uii    |2.2 

•u  I3A    iiii 


L25  i  1.4 


1.6 


«*■ 


??<!!,. 


^    ^ 


M^ 


^^} 


Photographic 

Sciences 

(Corporation 


23  W  EST  Main  S;!trZT 
(716)  «73-4»03 


u.. 


^ 
<> 


186      EFFECTUAL    DELIVERANCE    FOR    THE   DRUNKARD.' 


_'>:r^-> 


this  fiendish  fascination,  who  have  had  their  fetters  biioken,  atid  are 
now  free  men  in  the  Army.  .Still  the  mighty  torrent  of  Alcohol, 
fed  by  ten  thousand  manufactories,  sweeps  on,  bearing  with  it,  I 
have  no  hesitatiun  in  saying,  the  foulest,  bloodiest  tidie  that  ever 
flowed  from  earth  to  eternity.  The  Church  of  the  living  God 
ought  not — and  to  say  nothing  about  religion,  the  people  who  have 
any  humanity  ought  not,  to  rest  without  doing  something  desperate 
to  rescue  this  half  of  a  million  who  are  in  the  eddying  mael- 
strom. We  purpose,  therefore,  the  taking  away  of  the  people  from 
the  temptation  which  they  cannot  resist.  We  would  to  God  that 
the  temptation  could  be  taken  away  from  them,  that  every  house 
licensed  to  send  forth  the  black  streams  of  bitter  death  were  closed, 
and  closed  for  ever.  But  this  will  not  be,  we  fear,  for  the  present 
at  least. 

While  in  one  case  drunkenness  may  be  resolved  into  a  habit,  in 
another  it  must  be  accounted  a  disease.  What  is  wanted  in  the  one 
case,  therefore,  is  some  method  of  removing  the  man  out  of  the 
sphere  of  the  temptation,  and  in  the  other  for  treating  the  passion 
as  a  disease,  as  we  should  any  other  physic^]  affection,  bringing  to 
bear  upon  it  every  agency,  hygienic  and  otherwise,  calculated  to 
effect  a  cure. 

The  Dalrymple  Homes,  in  which,  on  the  order  of  a  magistrate  and 
by  their  own  consent.  Inebriates  can  be  confined  for  a  time,  ha. e 
been  a  partial  success  in  dealing  with  this  class  in  both  these 
respects  ;  but  they  are  admittedly  too  expensive  to  be  of  any  service 
to  the  poor.  It  could  never  be  hoped  that  working  people  of  them- 
selves, or  with  the  assistance  of  thchr  fcieads,  would  be  able  to  pay 
two  pounds  a  week  for  the  privilege  of  being  removed  away  from  the 
licensed  temptations  to- drink  which  surround  them  at  every  step. 
Moreover,  could  they  obtain  admission  they  would  feel  themselves 
anything  but  at  ease  amongst  the  class  who  avail  themselves 
of  these  institutions.  We  propose  to  establish  Homes  which  will 
contemplate  the  deliverance,  not  of  ones  and  twos,  but  of  mjulti- 
tudcs,  and  which  will  be  accessible 'to  the  poor,  or  to  peciions  of  any 
clags  choosing  to  use  them.  This  is  our  national  vice,  and  it 
demands  nothing  short  of  a  national  remedy — anyway,  one  of 
proportions  large  enough  to  be  counted  national. 

I.  To  begin  with,  there  will  be.  City  Homes,  into  which  a  man 
can  be  taken,  watched  over,  kept  out  of  the  way  of  temptation,  and  if 
possible. delivered  from  the  power. of  this  dreadful  habit. 


In  com 
business 
to  and  fr 
tion  for  t 

2.  Coi 
principle 
binding 
would  re 

The  g< 
thing  as 


The 
discussic 
be  objec 
and  that 
before  t 
police  r 
enormoi 

We  ! 
possible 
humanii 
impriso 
them  t . 
TAich  ar 


THE   SOCIAL   EVIL. 


187 


In  some  cases  persons  would  be  taken  in  who  are  engaged  in 
business  in  the  City  in  the  day,  being  accompanied  by  an  attendant 
to  and  from  the  Home.  In  this  case,  of  course,  adequate  remunera- 
tion for  this  extra  care  would  be  required. 

2.  Country  Homes,  which  we  shall  conduct  on  the  Dalrymplc 
principle  ;  that  is,  taking  persons  for  compulsory  confinement,  they 
binding  themselves  by  a  boni  confirmed  by  a  magistrate  that  they 
would  remain  for  a  certain  period. 

The  general  regulations  for  both  establishments  would  some- 
thing as  follows : — 

(I).  There  would  be  only  one  class  in  each  establishment.  II  it  was 
found  that  the  rich  and  the  poor  did  not  work  comfortably 
togetheri  separate  institutions  must  be  provided. 

(2).  All  would  alike  have  to  engage  in  some  remunerative  form  of  era« 
ployment.  Outdoor  work  would  be  preferred,  but  indoor  employ- 
ment would  be  arranged  for  those  for  whom  it  was  most  suitable, 
and  in  such  weather  and  at  such  times  of  the  year  when  garden 
work  was  impracticable. 

v3).  A  charge  of  los.  per  week  would  be  made.  This  could  be 
remitted  when  there  was  no  ability  to  pay  it. 

The  usefulness  of  such  Homes  is  too  evident  to  need  any 
discussion.  There  is  one  class  of  unfortunate  creatures  who  must 
be  objects  of  pity  to  all  who  have  any  knowledge  of  their  existence, 
and  that  is,  those  men  and  women  who  are  being  continually  dragged 
before  the  magistrates,  of  whom  we  are  constantly  reading  in  the 
police  reports,  whose  lives  are  spent  in  and  out  of  prison,  at  an 
enormous  cost  to  the  country,  and  without  any  benefit  to  themselves. 

We  should  then  be  able  to  deal  v^ith  this  class.  It  would  be 
possible  for  a  magistrate,  instead  of  sentencing  the  poor  wrecks  of 
humanity  to  the  sixty-fourth  and  one  hundred  and  twentieth  term  of 
imprisonment,  to  send  them  to  this  Institution,  by  simply  remanding 
them  to  come  up  for  sentence  when  called  for.  How  much  cheaper 
TAich  an  arrangement  would  be  for  the  country  1 


;      :1 


■Ip- 


■■!       ■■^;'■:^ 


wmmm 


wmm 


Section  5.— A  NEW  WAY  OF  ESCAPE  FOR  LOST  WOMEN. 

THE    RESCUE    HOMES.    _  '  ' 

Perhaps  there  is  no  evil  more  destructive  of  the  best  interests  of 
Society,  or  confessedly  more  difficult  to  deal  with  remedially,  than 
that  which  is  known  as  the  Social  Evil.  We  have  already  seen 
something  of  the  extent  to  which  this  terrible  scourge  has  grown, 
aaid  the  alarming  manner  in  which  it  affects  our  modern  civilisation. 

We  have  already  made  an  attempt  at  grappling  with  this  evil,  having 
about  thirteen  Homes  in  Great  Britain,  accommodating  307  >  girls 
under  the  charge  of  132  Officers,  together  Vi'ith  seventeen  Homes 
abroad,  open  for  the  same  purpose.  The  whole,  although  a  small 
affair  compared  with  the  vastness  of  the  necessity,  nevertheless 
constitutes  perhaps  the  largest  and  most  efficient  effort  of  its 
character  in  the  world. 

It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  results  that  have  been  already 
realised.  By  our  vafied  operations,  apart  from  these  Homes, 
probably  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  have  been  delivered  frorti  lives 
of  shame  and  misery.  We  have  no  exact  return  of  the  numbejr  who 
have  gone  through  the  Homes  abroad,  but  in  connection  with  the 
work  in  this  country,  about  3,000  have  been  rescued,  and  are  living 
lives  of  virtue. 

This  success  has  not  only  been  gratifying  on  account'  of  the 
blessing  it  has  brought  these  young  women,  the  gladness  it  has 
introduced  to  the  homes  to  which  they  have  been  restored,  and  the 
benefit  it  has  bestowed  upon  Society,  but  because  it  has  assured  us 
that  much  greater  results  of  the  same  character  may  be  realised  by 
operations  conducted  on  a  larger  scale,  and  under  more  favourable 
circumstances. 

With  this  view  we  propose  to  remodel  and  greatly  increase  the 
number  of  our  Homes  both  in  London  and  the  provinces,  estab- 
lishing one  in  every  gi'eat  centre  of  this  infamous  traffic. 

To  make  them  very  largely  Receiving  Houses,  where  the  girls 
will  be  initiated  into  the  system  of  reformation,  tested  as  to  the 
reality  of  their  desires  for  deliverance,  and  started  forward  on  the 
highway  of  truth,  virtue,  and  religion. 


n 


GIRLS   IN   THE    FARM    COLONY. 


189 


From  these  Homes  hrgc  numbers,  as  at  present,  would  be 
restored  to  llicir  friends  and  relatives,  while  some  would  be  detained 
in  training  for  domestic  service,  and  others  passed  on  to  the  Farm 
Colony. 

On  the  Farm  they  would  be  engaged  m  vanous  occupations.  In  the 
Factory,  at  Bookbinding  and  Weaving  ;  in  the  Garden  and  Glass- 
houses amongst  fruit  and  flowers  ;  m  the  Dairy,  making  butter  ;  in 
all  cases  going  through  a  course  of  House-work  which  will  fit  them 
for  domestic  service. 

At  every  stage  the  same  process  of  mo  .1  and  religious  training, 
on  which  we  specially  rely,  will  be  carried  forward. 

There  would  probably  be  a  considerable  amount  of  inter-marriage 
amongst  the  Colonists,  and  in  this  way  a  number  of  these  girls 
would  be  absorbed  into  Society. 

A  large  number  would  be  sent  abroad  as  domestic  servants.  In 
Canada,  the  girls  are  \iken  out  of  the  Rescue  Homes  as  servants, 
with  no  other  reference  than  is  gained  by  a  few  weeks*  residence 
there,  and  are  paid  as  much  as  £^  a  month  wages  The  scarcity  ol 
domestic  servants  in  the  Australian  Colonies,  Western  States  of  America, 
Africa,  and  elsewhere  is  well  known.  And  we  have  no  doubt  that 
on  all  hands  our  girls  with  12  months'  character  will  be  welcomed, 
the  question  of  outfit  and  passage-money  being  easily  arranged  for 
by  the  pcrbons  requiring  their  services  advancing  the  amount,  with 
an  understanding  that  it  is  to  be  deducted  out  of  their  first  earnings. 

Then  we  have  the  Colony  Over-Sea,  which  will  require  the  service 
of  a  large  number.  Very  few  families  will  go  out  who  will  not  be 
very  glad  to  take  a  young  woniun  with  them,  not  as  a  menial 
servant,  but  as  a  companion  and  friend. 

By  this  method  we  should  be  able  to  carry  out  Rescue  work  on  a 
much  larger  scale  At  present  two  difficulties  vt.y  largely  block  our 
way.  One  is  the  costliness  of  the  work.  The  expense  of  rescuing 
a  girl  on  the  present  plan  cannot  be  much  less  than  £7  ;  that  is, 
if  we  include  the  cost  of  those  with  whom  we  fail,  and  j)n  whom  the 
money  is  largely  thrown  away.  Seven  pounds  is  certainly  not  a 
very  large  sum  for  the  measure  of  benefit  bestowed  upon  the  girl  by 
bringing  her  off  the  streets,  and  that  which  is  bestowed  on  Society 
by  removing  her  from  her  evil  course.  Still,  when  the  work  runs 
into  thousands  of  individuals,  the  amount  required  becomes  con- 
siderable. On  the  plan  proposed  we  calculate  that  from  the  date  of 
their  reaching  the  Farm  Colony  they  will  earn  nearly  all  that  j«} 
required  for  their  support. 


,    •'}   ■-;■■?» -Ill 


■ 


ido 


THE    RESCUE    HOMES. 


The  next  difficulty  which  hinders  our  expansion  in  this  depart- 
ment is  the  want  of  suitabfe  and  permanent  situations.  Although 
we  have  been  marvellously  successful  so  far,  having  at  this  hour 
probably  1,200  girls  in  domestic  service  alone,  still  the  difficulty  in  this 
respect  is  great.  Families  are  naturally  shy  at  receiving  these  poor 
unfortunates  when  they  can  secure  the  help  they  need  combined  with 
unblemished  character ;  and  we  cannot  blame  them. 

Then,  again,  it  can  easily  be  understood  that  the  monotony  of 
domestic  service  in  this  country  is  not  altogether  congenial  to  the 
tastes  of  many  of  these  girls,  who  have  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of 
excitement  and  freedom.  This  can  be  easily  understood.  To  be 
shut  up  seven  days  a  week  with  little  or  no  intercourse,  either  with 
friends  or  with  the  outside  world,  beyond  that  which  comes  of  the 
weekly  Church  service  or  "  night  out "  with  nowhere  to  go,  as  many 
of  them  are  tied  off  from  the  Salvation  Army  Meetings,  becomes 
very  monotonous,  and  in  hours  of  depression  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if  a  few  break  down  in  their  resolutions,  and  fall  back 
into  their  old  ways. 

On  the  plan  we  propose  there  is  something  to  cheer  these  girls  for- 
ward. Life  on  the  farm  will  be  attractive.  From  there  they  can  go  to 
a  new  country  and  begin  the  world  afresh,  with  the  possibility  of  being 
married  and  having  a  little  home  of  their  own  some  day.  With  su^h 
prospects,  we  think,  they  will  be  much  more  likely  to  fight  their 
way  through  seasons  of  darkness  and  temptation  than-  as  at 
present. 

This  plan  will  also  make  the  task  of  rescuing  the  girls  much  more, 
agreeable  to  the  Officers  engaged  in  it.  They  will  have  this  future 
to  dwell  upon  as  an  encouragement  to  persevere  with  the  girls,  and 
will  be  spared  one  element  at  least  in  the  regret  they  experience, 
when  a  girl  falls  back  into  old  habits,  namely,  that  she  earned  the 
principal  part  of  the  money  that  has  been  expended  upon  her. 

That  girls  can  be  rescued  and  blessedly  saved  even  now,  despite 
all  their  surroundings,  we  have  many  remarkable  proofs.  Of  these 
take  one  or  two  as  examples  : — 

J.  W.  was  brought  by  our  Officers  from  a  neighbourhood  which  has,  by  reason 
of  the  atrocities  perpetrated  in  it,  obtained  «n  unenviable  renown,  even  among 
similar  districts  of  equaily  bad  character. 

She  was  only  nineteen.  A  country  girl.  She  had  begun  the  struggle  for 
life  early  as  a  worker  in' a  large  laundry,  and  at  thirteen  years  of  age  was  led 
away  by  an  inhuman  brute.    The  first,  false  step  taken,  her  course  onjhe 


wtmm^^. 


f": 


A   WILD   WOMAM. 


191 


depart- 
though 
is  hour 
'  in  this 
se  poor 
td  with 

tony  of 
1  to  the 
a  life  of 

To  be 
er  with 

of  the 
s  many 
>ecomes 

to  be 
ill  back 

iris  for- 
an  go  to 
of  being 
ith  su^h 
;ht  their 
•    as  at 

ch  more, 
s  future 
iris,  and 
•erience, 
ned  the 
r. 

despite 
3f  these 

\>y  reason 
!n  among 

uggle  for 
e  was  led 
e  onjhe 


downward  road  was  rapid,  and  growing  restless  and  anxious  for  more  scope 
than  that  afforded  in  a  country  town,  she  came  up  to  London. 

For  some  time  she  lived  the  life  of  extravagance  and  show,  known  to  tpany  of 
this  class  for  a  short  time — having  plenty  ot  money,  fine  clothes,  and  luxurious 
surroundings — until  the  terrible  disease  seized  her  poor  body,  and  she  soon  found 
herself  deserted,  homeless  and  friendless,  an  outcast  of  Society. 

When  we  found  her  she  was  hard  and  impenitent,  difficult  to  reach  even  with 
the  hand  of  love  ;  but  love  won,  and  since  that  time  she  has  been  in  two  or  three 
si  uations,  a  consistent  Soldier  of  an  Amy  corps,  and  a  champion  IVdr  Cry  seller. 

A  TICKET-OF-LEAVE  WOMAN. 

A.  B.  was  the  child  of  respectable  working  people— Roman  Catholics— out 
was  early  left  ou  orpiian.  zme  ie\i  m  with  bad  companions,  and  became  ad- 
dicted to  drink,  going  from  bad  to  worse  until  drunkenness,  robbery,  and  harlotry 
brought  her  to  the  lowest  depths.  She  passed  seven  years  in  prison,  and  after 
the  last  offence  was  discharged  with  seven  years'  police  supervision.  Failing  to 
report  herself,  she  was  brought  before  the  bench. 

The  magistrate  inquired  whether  she  had  ever  had  a  chance  in  a  Home  of  any 
kind.  "  She  is  too  old,  no  one  will  take  her,"  was  the  reply,  but  a  Detective 
present,  knowing  a  little  about  the  Salvation  Army,  stepped  forward  and  ex- 
plained  to  the  magistrate  that  he  did  not  think  the  Salvation  Army  refused 
any  who  applied.  She  was  formally  handed  over  to  us  in  a  deplorable  condition, 
her  clothing  the  scantiest  and  dirtiest.  For  over  three  years  she  has  given 
evidence  of  a  genuine  reformation,  during  which  time  she  has  industriously  earned 
her  own  living. 

A  WILD  WOMAN. 

In  visiting  a  slum  in  a  town  in  the  North  of  England,  our  Officers  entered  a 
hole,  unfit  to  be  called  a  human  habitation — more  like  the  den  of  sbme  wild 
animal  almost  the  only  furniture  of  which  wa3  a  filthy  iron  bedstead,  a  wooden 
box  to  serve  for  table  and  chair,  while  an  old  tin  did  duty  as  a  dustbin. 

The  inhabitant  of  this  wretched  den  was  a  poor  woman,  who  fled  into  the 
darkest  corner  of  the  place  as  our  Officer  entered.  This  poor  wretch  was  the 
;  victim  of  a  brutal  man,  who  never  allowed  her  to  veqture  outside  the  door, 
keeping  her  alive  by  the  scantiest  allowance  of  food.  Her  only  clothing  con- 
sisted of  a  sack  tied  round  her  body.  Her  feet  were  bare,  her  hair  matted  and 
foul,  presenting  on  the  whole  such  an  object  as  one  could  scarcely  imagine  living 
in  a  civilised  country.  \ 

She  had  left  a  respectable  home,  forsaken  her  husb»nd  and  fam^'y.  and  sunk 
so  low  that  the  man  who  then  claimed  her  boasf^d  to  the  Officer  that  he  had 
bettered  her  condition  by  taking  her  off  the  streets.  \ 

We  took  the  poor^ creature  away,  washed  and  clothed  her;  and,  changed  vd 
heart '^nd  life,  she  is  one  more  added  to  the  number  of  those  who  rise  uo  to 
bleu  the  Salvation  Armyjvprk^rs. 

7  ' 


!  „i 


•m. 


% 


j  I; 


■■^'^.j^- 


•     I    I 


Section  6.— A  PREVENTIVE  HOME  FOR  UNFALLEN  GIRLS  WHEN 

IN  DANGER. 

Jliere  is  a  story  told  likely  enough  to  be  true  about  a  young  girl 
who  applied  one  evening  for  admission  to  some  home  established  for 
the  purpose  of  rescuing  fallen  women.  The  matron  naturally 
inquired  whether  she  haH  forfeited  her  virtue  ;  the  girl  "replied  in  the 
negative.  She  had  been  kept  from  that  infamy,  but  she  was  poor 
and  friendless,  and  wanted  somewhere  to  lay  her  head  until  she 
could  secure  work,  and  obtain  a  home.  The  matron  must  have 
pitied  her,  but  she  could  not  heln  her  as  she  did  not  belong  to  the 
class  for  whose  benefit  the  Institution  was  intended.  The  girl 
pleaded,  but  the  matron  could  no-  alter  the  rule,  and  dare  not  break  it, 
they  were  so  pressed  to  find  room  for  their  own  poor  unfortunates, 
and  she  could  not  receive  her.  The  poor  girl  left  the  door  reluctantly 
but  returned  in  a  very  short  time,  and  said,  "  I  am  fallen  now,  will 
you  take  me  in  ?  " 

I  am  somewhat  slow  to  credit  this  incident ;  anyway  it  is  true  in 
spirit,  and  illustrates  the  fact  that  while  there  are  homes  to  which 
any  poor,  ruined,  degraded  harlot  can  run  for  shelter,  there  is  only 
here  and  there  a  corner  to  which  a  poor  friendless,  moneyless,  home- 
less, but  unfallen  girl  can  fly  for  shelter  from  the  storm  which  bids 
fair  to  sweep  her  away  whether  she  will  or  no  into  the  deadly  vortex 
of  ruin  which  gapes  beneath  her. 

In  London  and  all  our  large  towns  tnere  must  be  a  considerable 
number  of  poor  girls  who  from  various  causes  are  suddenly  plunged 
into  this  forlorn  condition ;  a  quarrel  with  the  mistress  and  sudden 
discharge,  a  long  bout  of  disease  and  dismissal  penniless  from  the 
hospital,  a  robbery  of  a  purse,  having  to  wait  for  a  situation  until 
the  last  penny  is  spent,  and  many  other  causes  will  leave  a  girl  an 
almost  h'  ocless  prey  to  the  linx-eyed  villains  who  are  ever  watching 
to  take  advantage  of  innocence  wlien  in  danger.  Then,  again,  what 
a  number  there  must  be  in  a  great  city  like  London  who  are  ever 
faced  with  the  alternative  of  being  turned  out  of  doors  if  thev  refuse 


to  subn 
them.  V 

prosecui 
with  th< 
were  thi 
We  hai 
terrible, 
employe 
tunately 

Now, 
can  Hy 
shielded 

The  I 
as   the 
accept  a 
visible  i 
conform 
provided 
Every   I 
to  bear  < 
efforts  V, 
tion  of 
provide 
a  way 
institutic 
be  neces 


i 


HOMES'^TOTFLr'TOT 


^T93 


to  submit  themselves  to  the  infamous  overtures  of  those  around 
them.  ^  I  understand  that  the  Society  for  the  Protection  of  Childrci» 
prosecuted  last  year  a  fabulous  number  of  fathers  for  unnatural  sins 
with  their  children.-  If  so  many  were  brought  to  justice,  how  many 
were  there  of  whom  the  world  never  heard  in  any  shape  or  form? 
We  have  only  to  imagine  how  many  a.  poor  girl  is  faced  with  the 
terrible* alternative  of  being  driven  literally  into  the  streets  by 
employers  or  relatives  •  or  others  in ;,  whose  power  she  is  unfor- 
tunately placed. 

Now,  we  want  a  real  home  for  such—  sl<  house  to  which  any  girl 
can  lly  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  and  be  taken  in,  cared  for,' 
shielded  from  the  enemy,  and  helped  into  circumstances  of  safety. 

The  Refuge  we  propose  will  be  very  much  on  the  same  principle 
as  the  Homes  for  the  Destitute  already  described.  We  should 
accept  any  girls,  say  from  fourteen  years  of  age,  who  were  without 
visible  means  of  support,  but  who  were  willing  to  work,  and  to 
conform  to  discipline.  There  would  be  various  forms  of  labour 
provided,  such  as  lau-ndry  work;  sewing,  knitting  by  machines,  &c.' 
Every  beneficial  influence  within  our  power  would  be  brought 
to  bear  on  the  rectification  and  formation  of  character.  .'Continued 
efforts  woul-'.  be  made  to  secure  situations  according  to  the  adapta- 
tion of  the  girls,  to  restore  wanderers  to  their  homes,  and  otherwise 
provide  for  all.  From  this,  as  with  the  other  Homes,  there  will  be 
a  way  made  to  the  Farm  and  to  the  Colony  over  the  sea.  KThe 
institutions  would  be  multiplied  as  we  had  means  and  found  thcni' to 
be  necessary,  and  made  self-supporting  as  far  as  possible.' 


■I,    !' 


■m 


Section  7.— ENQUIRY  OFFICE  FOR  LOST  PEOPLE 

Perhaps  notning  more  vividly  suggests  the  varied  forms  of  broken- 
hearted misery  in  the  great  City  than  the  statement  that  l8,cxx) 
people  are  lost  in  it  every  year,  of  whom  9,000  are  never  heard  of 
any  more,  anyway  in  this  world.  What  is  true  about  London  is, 
we  suppose,  true  in  about  the  same  proportion  of  the  rest  of  the 
country.  Husbands,  sons,  daughters,  and  mothers  are  continually 
disappearing,  and  leaving  no  trace  behind. 

In  such  cases,  where  the  relations  are  of  some  importance  in  the 
world,  they  may  interest  the  police  authorities  sufficiently  to  make 
some  enquiries  in  this  country,  which,  however,  are  not  often  suc- 
cessful ;  or  where  they  can  afford  to  spend  large  sums  of  money, 
they  can  fall'  back  upon  the  private  detective,  who  will  continue 
these  enquiries,  no:         -  at  home  but  abroad. 

But  where  the  re..  s  of  the  missing  individual  are  in  humble 
circumstances,  they  are  absolutely  powerless,  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  to  effectually  prosecute  any  search  at  all  that  is  likely  to  be 
successful. 

Take,  for  instance,  a  cottager  in  a  village,  whose  daughter  leaves 
for  service  in  a  big  town  or  city.  Shortly  afterwards  a  letter 
arrives  informing  her  parents  of  the  satisfactory  character  of  her 
place.  7  The  mistress  is  kind,  the  work  easy,  and  she  likes  her 
fellow  servants.  She  is  going  to  chapel  or  church,  and  the  family 
are  pleased.  Letters  continue  to  arrive  of  the  same  purport,  but, 
at  length,  they  suddenly  cease.  Full  of  concern,  the  mother  writes  to 
know  the  reason,  but  no  answer  comes  back,  and  after  a  time  the 
letters  are  returned  with  "gone,  no  address,"  written  on  the 
envelope.  The  mother  writes  to  the  mistress,  or  the  father  journeys 
to-  the  city,  but  no  further  information  can  be  obtained  beyond  the 
fact  that  "  the  girl  has  conducted  herself  somewhat  mysteriously  of 
late  ;  had  ceased*  to  be  as  careful  at  her  work  ;  had  been  noticed  to 
be  keeping  company  with  some  young  man ;  had  given  notice  and 
disappeared  altogether." 


«■■ 


FINDING   THE    LOST.' 


196 


Now,  what  can  these  poor  people  do  ?  They  apply  to  the  police, 
but  they  can  do  nothing.  Perhaps  they  ask  the  clergyman  of  the 
parish,  who  is  equally  helpless,  and  there  is  nothing  for  them  buti 
for  the  father  to  hang  his  head  and  the  mother  to  cry  herself  to' 
sleep — to  long,  and  wait,  and  pray  for  information  that  perhaps  never, 
comes,  and  to  fear  the  worst. 

Now,  our  Enquiry  Department  supplies  a  remedy  for  this  state  ofj 
things.  In  such  a  case  application  would  simply  have  to  be  made  to 
the  nearest  Salvation  Army  Officer — probably  in  her  own  village,  any; 
way,  in  the  nearest  town — who  would  instruct  the  parents  to  write 
to  the  Chief  Office  in  London,  sending  portraits  and  all  particulars.! 
Enquiries  would  at  once  be  set  on  foot,  which  would  very  possiblyi 
end  in  the  restoration  of  the  girl. 

The  achievements  of  this  Department,  which  has  only  been  in] 
operation  for  a  short  time,  and  that  on  a  limited  scale,  as  a  branch  ofj 
Rescue  Work,  have  been  marvellous.  No  more  romantic  stories  can] 
be  found  in  the  pages  of  our  most  imaginative  writers  than  those  it] 
records.    We  give  three  or  four  illustrative  cases  of  recent  date. 


ENQUIRY. 

A   LOST 

Mrs.  S.,  of  New  Town,  Leeds,  wrote 
to  say  that  Robert  R.  left  England  in 
July  1889,  for  Canada  to  improve  his 
position.  He  left  a  wife  and  four  little 
children  behind,  and  on  leaving  said 
that  if  he  were  successful  out  there  he 
should  send  for  them,  but  if  not  he 
should  return. 

As  he  was  unsuccessful,  he  left 
Montreal  in  the  Dommion  Liner 
"  Oregon,"  on  October  30th,  but  except 
receiving  a  card  from  him  ere  he 
started,  the  wife  and  friends  had  heard 
no  more  of  him  from  that  day  till  the 
date  they  wrote  tis. 

They  had  written  to  the  "Dominion" 
Company,  who  replied  that  "  he  landed 
at  Liverpool  all  right,"  so,  thinking  he 
had  disappeared  upon  his  arrival,  they 
put  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the 
Liverpool  Police,  who,  alter  having  the 
case  in  hand  fur  several  weeks  mado 
the  usual  report — "  Cannot  be  traced." 


RESULT. 
HUSBANP. 

We  at  once  commenced  looking  for 
some  passenger  who  had  come  over 
by  the  same  steamer,  and  after  the 
lapse  of  a  little  time  we  succeeded  in  j 
getting  hold  of  one. 

In  our  first  interview  with  him  we' 
learned  that  Robert  R  did  not  land  at! 
Liverpool,  but  when  suffering  from  de-l 
pression  threw  himself  overboard  three 
days  after  leaving  America,  and  was 
drovvned.  We  further  elicited  that 
upon  his  death  the  sailors  rifled  his 
clothes  and  boxes,  and  partitioned  them. 

We  wrote  the  Company  reporting 
this,  and  they  promised  to  make  en-^ 
quiries  and  amends,  but  as  too  often 
happens,  upon  making  report  of  the 
same  to  the  family  they  took  the 
matter  into  their  own  hands,  dealt' 
with  the  Company  direct,  and  in  all  pro- 
bability thereby  lost  a  good  sum  in 
compensation  which  we  should  pro- 
bably have  obtaiacd  for  them. 


I  'I 
!    i 


mm 


196 


ENQUIRY   OFFICE    FOR  LOST  PEOPLE.' 


A  LOST  WIFE. 


F.  J.  L.  asked  us  to  seek  for  his  wife, 
who  left  him  on  November  4th,  1888. 
He  feared  she  had  gone  to  live  an  im- 
moral life ;  gave  us  two  addresses  at 
which  she  might  possibly  be  heard  of, 
and  a  description.  They  had  three 
children. 


Enquiries  at  the  addresses  given 
elicited  no  information,  but  from  ob- 
servation in  the  neighbourhood  the 
woman's  whereabouts  was  discovered. 

After  some  difficulty  our  Officer  ob- 
tained an  interview  with  the  woman, 
who  was  greatly  astonished  at  our 
having  discovered  her.  She  was  dealt 
with  faithfully  and  firmly:  the  plain 
truth  of  God  set  before  her,  ^nd  was 
covered  with  shame  and  remorse,  and 
promised  to  return. 

We  communicated  with  Mr.  L.  A 
few  days  after  he  wrote  tbat  he  had 
been  telegraphed  for,  had  forgiven  his 
wife,  and  that  they  were  re-united. 

Soon  afterwords  she  wrote  expres- 
sing her  deep  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Bram- 
well  Booth  for  the  trouble  taken  in  her 
case. 


A   LOS''   CHILD. 


Alice  P.  was  stolen  away  from  home 
by  Gypsies  ten  years  ago,  and  now 
longs  to  find  her  parents  to  be  restored 
to  them.  She  believes  her  home  to  be 
in  Yorkshire. 

The  Police  had  this  case  in  hand  for 
lome  time,  but  failed  entirely. 


With  these  particulars  we  advertised 
in  the  "War  Cry."  Captain  Green, 
seeing  the  advertisement,  wrote,  April 
3rd,  from  3,  C.  S.,  M.  H.,  that  her 
Lieutenant  knew  a  family  of  the  name 
advertised  for,  living  at  Gomersal, 
Leeds. 

We,  on  the  4th,  wrote  to  this  ad- 
dress for  confirmation. 

April  6th,  we  heard  from  Mr.  P , 

that  this  lass  is  his  child,  and  he  writes 
full  of  gratitude  and  joy,  saying  he 
will  send  money  for  her  to  go  home. 
We,  meanwhile,  get  from  the  Police, 
who  had  long  sought  this  girl,  a  full 
description  and  photo,  which  we 
sent  to  Captain  Cutmore;  and  on 
April  9th,  she  wrote  us  to  the  effect 
that  the  girl  exactly  answered  tlic 
description.  We  got  from  the  parent  >- 
15/-  for  the  fare,  and  Alice  was  onc( 
morp  restored  to  her  parents. 

Praise  God. 


FOUND    IN    CANADA. 


197 


A    LOST    DAUGHTER. 


E.  W.  Age  17.  Application  fum  this 
girl's  mother  and  brother,  who  had  lost 
Jill  trarc  of  her  since  July,  1885,  when 
sli-;  left  for  Canada.  Letters  had  been 
once  or  twice  received,  dated  from 
Montreal,  but  they  stopped. 

A  photo.,  full  description,  and 
handwriting  were  supplied. 


Mrs.  M.,  Clevedon,  one  of  Harriett  P.'s 
old  mistresses,  wrote  us,  in  deep  con- 
cern, about  this  girl.  She  said  she  was  a 
good  servant,  but  was  ruined  by  the 
young  man  who  courted  her,  and  had 
since  had  three  children.  Occasionally, 
she  would  have  a  few  bright  and 
happy  weeks,  but  would  again  lapse 
into  the  *'  vile  path." 

Mrs.  M.  tells  us  that  Harriett  had 
good  parents,  who  arc  dead,  but  she 
still  has  a  respectable  brother  in  Hamp- 
shire. The  last  she  heard  of  her  was 
thai  some  weeks  ago  she  was  staying 
at  a  Girl's  Shelter  at  Bristol,  but  had 
since  left,  and  nothing  more  had  been 
heard  of  her. 

The  enquirer  requested  us  to  find 
her,  and  in  much  faith  added,  "  I  believe 
you  are  the  only  people  who,  if  success- 
ful in  tracing  her,  can  rescue  and  do 
1  ;;•  a  permanent  good." 


We  discovered  that  some  kind 
Church  people  here  had  helped  E.  W. 
to  emigrate,  but  they  had  no  informa* 
tion  as  to  her  movements  af^cr  lanUinf!. 

Full  particulars,  with  photo.,  \\'«Tf 
sent  to  our  Officers  in  Canada.  The  girl 
was  not  found  in  Montreal.  Thcmfor- 
mation  was  then  sent  to  Ofticcrs  in  other 
towns  in  that  part  of  the  Colony. 

The  enquiry  was  continued  liirouf  1» 
spmc  months ;  and,  finally,  throuj{h 
•  our  Major  of  Division,  the  girl  was 
reported  tousashaving been  recognisc<l 
in  one  of  oiir  Barracks  and  idcntiticd. 
When  sudden ly  called  by //tfrozfwwawr, 
she  nearly  faintod  with  .imitation. 

She  was  in  a  condition  of  terrible 
poverty  and  shame,  but  at  once  con- 
sented, on  hearing  of  her  mother's  en- 
quiries, to  go  into  one  of  our  Canadian 
Rescue  Homes.    She  is  now  doing  well. 

Her  mother's  joy  may  be  imagine'  • 

A   LOST    SERVANT. 

Wc  at  once  set  enquiries  on  foot, 
and  in  the  spare  of  a  few  days  f«>unu 
that  she  had  started  from  Bristol  on 
the  road  for  Bath.  Following  her  up 
we  found  that  at  a  little  place  called 
Bridlington,  on  the  way  to  Bath,  she 
had  met  a  man,  of  whom  she  enquired 
her  way.  He  hearing  a  bit  of  her 
story,  after  taking  her  to  a  public- 
house,  prcvailedupon  Iicr  togohomeand 
live  with  him,  as  he  had  lost  his  wife. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  wc  camo 
upon  the  scene,  and  having  dealt  with 
them  both  upon  the  matter,  got  her  to 
consent  to  come  away  if  the  man 
would  not  marry  her,  giving  him  two 
days  to  make  up  his  mind. 

The  two  days*  respite  havmg  expired 
and,  he  being  unwilling  to  undertake 
matrimony,  we  brought  her  away,  and 
sent  her  to  one  of  our  Homes,  where 
she  is  enjoying  peace  and  penitence. 

When  we  informed  the  mistress  and 
brother  of  the  success,  they  were  greatly 
rejoiced  and  '  overwhelmed  j,  us  ^witb 
thanks.  -^^' 


't    . 


'ih;^ 


l^U,tiL.. 


"l^-VJ! 


rT^ssasBS 


198 


ENQUIRY    OFFICE    FOR    LOST    PEOPLF. 


;    I 


I      r 


I      I 


1      !■ 


A   LOST    HUSBAND. 

In  a  seaside  home  last  Chfstmas  there  v/as  a  sorrowing  wife,  v";ho  mourn;:.! 
over  the  basest  desertion  of  her  husband.  Wandering  from  place  to  placet 
drinking,  he  had  left  her  to  struggle  alone  with  four  little  ones  dependent 
upon  her  exertions. 

Knowing  her  distress,  the  captain  of  the  corps  wrote  begging  us  to  advertise 
for  the  man  in  the  Cry.  We  did  this,  but  for  some  time  heard  nothing  of  the 
result. 

Several  weeks  later  a  Salvationist  entered  a  beer-house,  where  a  group  of 
men  were  drinking,  and  began  to  distribute  IVar  Crys  amongst  them,  speaking 
here  and  there  upon  the  eternity  which  faced  everyone. 

At  the  counter  stood  a  man  with  a  pint  pot  in  hand,  who  took  one  of  the 
papers  passed  to  him,  and  glancing  carelessly  down  its  columns  caught  sight  of 
his  own  name,  and  was  so  startled  that  the  pot  fell  from  his  grasp  to  the  Hoor. 
"  Come  home,"  the  paragraph  ran,  "  and  all  will  be  forgiven." 

His  sin  faced  him ;  the  thought  of  a  broken-hearted  wife  and  starving 
children  conquered  him  completely,  and  there  and  then  he  left  the  public- 
house,  and  started  to  walk  home — a  distance  of  many  miles — arriving  there 
about  midnight  the  same  night,  after  an  absence  of  eleven  months. 

The  letter  from  his  wife  telling  the  good  news  of  his  return,  spoke  also  of 
his  determination  by  God's  help  to  be  a  dififerent  man,  and  they  are  both 
attendants  at  the  Salvation  Army  barracks. 

A  SEDUCER  COMPELLED  TO  PAY. 

Amongst  the  letters  that  came  to  the  Inquiry  Office  one  morning  was  one 
from  a  girl  who  asked  us  to  help  her  to  trace  the  father  of  her  child  who  had  for 
some  time  ceased  to  pay  anything  towards  its  support.  The  case  had  been 
brought  into  the  Police  Court,  and  judgment  given  in  her  favour,  but  the  guilty 
one  had  hidden,  and  his  father  refused  to  reveal  his  whereabouts. 

We  called  upon  the  elder  man  and  laid  the  matter  before  him,  but  failed  to 
prevail  upon  him  either  to  pay  his  son's  liabilities  or  to  put  us  into  communica- 
tion with  him.  The  answers  lo  an  advertisement  in  the  War  Cry,  however,  had 
brought  the  required  information  as  to  his  son's  whereabouts,  and  the  same 
morning  that  our  Inquiry  Officer  communicated  with  the  police,  and  served  a 
summons  for  the  overdue  money,  the  youi'g  man  had  also  received  a  letter 
from  his  father  advising  him  to  leave  the  country  at  once.  He  had  given 
notice  to  his  employers ;  and  the  £\(i  salary  he  received,  with  some  help  his 
father  had  sent  him  towards  the  journey,  he  was  compelled  to  hand  over  to  the 
mother  of  his  child. 


TRACED    AMONG    THE    KAFFIRS.' 


199 


ti. 


FOUND  IN  THE  BUSH. 
A  year  or  two  ago  a  respect&ble-looking  Dutch  girl  might  have  been  seen 
making  her  way  quickly  and  stealthily  across  a  stretch  of  long  rank  grass  towards 
the  shelter  of  some  woods  on  the  banks  of  a  distant  river.  :^  Behind  her  lay  the 
South  African  town  from  which  she  had  come,  betrayed,  disgraced,  ejected  from 
her  home  with  words  of  bitter  scorn,  having  no  longer  a  friend  in  the  wide  world 
who  would  hold  out  to  her  a  hand  of  help.  What  could  there  be  better  for  her 
than  to  plunge  into  that  river  yonder,  and  end  this  life — no  matter  what  should 
come  after  the  plunge  ?    But  Greetah  feared  the  "  future,"  and  turned  aside  to 

spend  the  night  in  darkness,  wretched  and  alone. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Seven  years  had  passed.  An  English  traveller  making  his  way  through 
Southern  Africa  lialted  for  the  Sabbath  at  o  little  village  on  his  route.  A  ramble 
through  the  woods  brought  him  unexpectedly  in  front  of  a  kraal,  at  the  door  ot 
which  squatted  an  old  Hottentot,  with  a  fair  white-faced  child  playing  on  the 
ground  near  by.  Glad  to  accept  the  prcfTered  shelter  of  the  hut  from  the  burning 
sim,  the  traveller  entered,  and  was  greatly  astonished  to  find  within  a  young 
White  girl,  evidently  the  mother  of  the  frolicsome  child.  Full  of  pity  for  the 
strange  pair,  and  especially  for  the  girl,  who  wore  an  air  of  reBr.ement  little  to  be 
expected  in  this  out-of-the-world  spot,  he  sat  down  on  the  earthen  floor,  and 
told  them  of  the  wonderful  Salvation  of  God.  This  was  Greetah,  and  the 
Englishman  would  have  given  a  great  deal  if  he  could  have  rescued  her  from 
this  miserable  lot.  But  this  was  impossible,  and  with  reluctance  he  bid  ker 
farewell 


It  was  an  English  home.  By  a  glowing  fire  one  night  a  man  sat  alone,  and 
in  his  imaginings  there  came  up  the  vision  of  the  girl  he  had  met  in  the  Hottentot's 
Kraal,  and  wondering  whether  any  way  of  rescue  was  possible.  Then  he 
remembered  reading,  since  his  return,  the  following  paragraph  in  the  IVar  Cry  : — 

"TO  THE  DISTRESSED. 

"  The  Salvation  Army  invite  parents,  relatio'ns,  and  friends  in  any  part  of  the 
world  interested  in  any  woman  or  girl  who  is  known,  or  feared  to  be,  living  in 
immorality,  or  is  in  danger  of  coming  under  the  control  of  immoral  persons,  to 
write,  stating  full  particulars,  with  names,  dates,  and  address  of-aIl,concerned| 
and,  if  possible,  a  photograph  of  the  person  in  whom  the  interest  is  taken. 

"  All  letters,  whether  from  these  persons  or  from  such  women  ^orlgiris  tkem^ 
selves,  will  be  regarded  as  strictly  confidential.  They  may  be  written'ih^any 
language,  and  should  be  addressed  to  Mrs.  Bramwell  Booth,  loi,'  Queen  Victoria! 
Street,  London,  E.C." 

"  It  will  do  no  harm  to  try,''anyhow,'Vexclaiihed'he7"  tlielthinj^^tuuntsj me  aa 
itii»''4uuLwithout  further  delay^lie  pt^nnedAiLACCfiuat  otJtia  AlncanidventureJ 


-/■ 


SS^S!SS^?rjKlS*^ES 


■Bl 


mm 


200 


ENQUIRY  OFFICE  FOR  LOST    PEOPLE. 


as  full  as  possible.    The  next  African  mail  carried  instructieas  to  the  Officer  in 
Command  of  our  South  African  work. 

»       "  •  #  '  »  # 

Shortly  after,  one  of  our  Salvation  Riders  was  exploring  the  bush,  and  after 
some  difficulty  the  kraal  was  discovered — the  girl  was  rescued  and  saved.  The 
Hottentot  was  conveited  afterwards,  and  both  arc  now  Salvation  Soldiers. 

Apart  from  the  independent  agencies  employed  to  prosecute  this 
class  of  enquiries,  which  it  is  proposed  to  very  largely  increase,  the 
Army  possesses  in  itself  peculiar  advantages  for  this  kind  of 
investigation.     The  mode  of  operation  is  as  follov/s  : — 

There  is  a  Head  Centre  under  the  direction  of  a  capable  Officer 
and  assistants,  to  which  particulars  of  lost  husbands,  sons,  daughter-., 
and  wives,  as  the  case  may  be,  are  forwarded.  These  are  advertised, 
except  when  deemed  inadvisable,  in  the  English  "  War  Cry,"  with 
its  3(X),ooo  circulation,  and  from  it  copied  into  the  twenty-three  other 
"  War  Crys  "  published  in  different  parts  of  the  world.  Specially 
prepared  information  in  each  case  is  sent  to  the  local  Officers  of  the 
Army  when  that  is  thought  wise,  or  Special  Enquiry  Officers  trained 
to  their  work  are  immediately  set  to  work  to  follow  up  any  clue  which 
has  been  given  by  enquiring  relations  or  friends. 

Every  one  of  its  10,000  Officers,  nay,  almost  every  soldier  in  its 
ranks,  scattered,  as  they  are,  through  every  quarter  of  the  globe, 
maj»  be  regarded  as  an  Agent. 

A  small  charge  for  enquiries  is  made,  and,  where  persons  are  able, 
all  th&.costs  of  the  investigation  will  be  defrayed  by  them.  . 


5  Officer  in 


and  after 
ivcd.  The 
iers. 

cute  this 
"ease,  the 
kind    of 

Officer 
aughtern, 
Iverflsed, 
ry,"  with 
irce  other 
Specially 
:rs  of  the 
's  trained 
lue  which 

ier  in  its 
he  globe, 

are  able, 


Bection  8.— refuges  FOR  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  STREETS. 

For  the  waifs  and  .strays  of  the  streets  of  Lonaon  much  com- 
iJi.aeration  is  expressed,  and  far  more  pity  is  deserved  than  is 
bestowed.  We  have  no  direct  purpose  of  entering  on  a  crusade  on 
their  behalf,  apart  from  our  attempt  at  changing  the  hearts  and  lives 
and  improving  the  circumstances  of  their  parents. 

Our  main  hope  for  these  wild,  youthful,  outcasts  lies  in  this 
direction.  If  we  can  reach  and  benefit  their  guardians,  morally  and 
materially,  we  shall  take  the  most  effectual  road  to  benefit  the 
children  themselves.  * 

Still,  a- number  of  them  will  unavoidably  be  forced  upon  us  ;  and 
we  shall  be  quite  prepared  to  accept  the  responsibility  of  dealing 
with  them,  calculating  that  our  organisation  will  enable  us  to  do  so, 
not  only  with  facility  and  efficiencv,  but  with  trifling  cost  to  the 
public. 

To  begin  with,  Children's  Cr&ches  or  Children's  Day  Homes  wouio 
be  established  in  the  centres  of  every  poor  populstion,  where  for  a 
small  charge  babies  and  young  children  Can  be  taken  care  of  in  the 
day  while  the  mothers  are  at  work,  instead  of  being  left  to  the 
dangers  of  the  thoroughfares  or  the  almost  greater  peril  of  being 
burnt  to  death  in  their  own  miserable  homes. 

By  this  plan  we  shall  not  only  be  able  to  benefit  the  poor  children, 
if  in  no  other  direction  than  that  of  soap  and  water  and  a  little  whole- 
some food,  but  exercise  some  humanising  influence  upon  the  mothers 
themselves. 

On  the  Farm  Colony,  we  should  be  able  to  deal  with  the  infants 
from  the  Unions  and  other  quarters.  Our  Cottage  mothers,  with 
two  or  three  children  of  their  own,  would  readily  take  in  an 
extra  one  on  the  usual  terms  of  boarding  out  children,  and  nothing 
would  be  more  simple  or  easy  for  us  than  to  set  apart  some  trust- 
worthy experienced  dame  to  make  a  constant  inspection  as  to 
whether  the  children  placed  out  were  enjoying  the  necessary  conditions 
of  health  and  general  well-being.  Here  would  be  a  Baby  Farm 
carried  on  with  the  most  favourable  surroundings. 


'ii 


':! 


$ 

■*l;. 
■  ■  ■\  '} 

■  /;;:■ 


i' 


■   ;■; 


]  ;.! 


■  I 

I    I 


x: 


Section  91— INDUSTRIAL  SCHOOLS. 


i 


1  also  propose,  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  to  give  the 
^iibject  of  the  industrial  training  of,  boys  a  fair  trial;  and. 
if  successful,  follow  it  on  with  a  similar  one  for  girls.  -  i 
am  nearly  satisfied  in  my  own  mind  that  the  children  of  the 
streets  taken,  say  at  eight  years  of  age,  and  kept  till,  say 
twenty-one,  would,  by  judicious  management  and  the  utilisation  of 
their  strength  and  capacity,  amply  supply  all  their  own  wants,  and 
would,  I  think,  be  likely  to  turn  out  thoroughly  good  and  capable 
members  of  the  community. 

\part  from  the  mere  benevolent  aspect  of  the  question,  the 
present  system  of  teaching  is,  to  my  mind,  unnatural,  and  shame- 
fully wasteful  of  the  energies  of  the  children.  Fully  one-half  the 
time  that  boys  and  girls  are  compelled  to  sit  in  school  is  spent  to 
little  or  no  purpose — nay,  it  is  worse  than  wasted.  The  minds  of  the 
children  are  only  capable  of  useful  application  for  so  many  con- 
secutive minutes,  and  hence  the  rational  method  must  be  to  apportion 
the  time  of  the  children  ;  say,  half  tHe  morning's  work  to  be  gfiven  to 
their  books,  and  the  other  half  to  some  industrial  employment ;  the 
garden  would  be  most  natural  and  healthy  in  fair  weather,  while  the 
gvorkshop  should  be  fallen  back  upon  when  unfavourable. 

By  this  method  health  would  be  promoted,  school  would  be  loved, 

(the  cost  of  education  would  be  cheapened,  and  the  natural  bent  of 

the  child's  capacities  would  be  discovered  and  could  be  cultivated. 

Instead  of  coming  out  of  school,  or  going  away  from  apprenticeship, 

with^the  most  precious  part  of  life  for  ever  gone  so  far  as  learning 

is,  concerned,  chained  to  some  pursuit  for  which  there  is  no  predilec- 

;^bn^and:  which  promises   nothing   higher   than  mediocrity  if  not 

failure— -the  work    for   which   the    mind  -  was   peculiarly   adapted 

and,  for  ^  which,    therefore,    it    would    have    a    natural    capacity, 

^ould  not  only  have  been  discovered,  but  the  bent  of^the  inclination 

|jltivat^;4^ilU^be^U(e's..work  chosen  accord ingljr^ 


give    the 

ial ;    and 

girls.   •  I 

n  of  the 

till,    say 

lisation  of 

vants,  and 

nd  capable 

stion,  the 
id  shame- 
le-half  the 
is  spent  to 
inds  of  the 
nany  con- 
apportion 
)e  given  to 
ment ;  the 
while  the 


INDUSTRIAL*  SCHOOLS. 


'203 


■X^.y.;, 


Ills  not  for  me'to'attempt.ianx  reform ,fof^'ourJi School  system.sbri 
this  model.  ^  But  I  do  think  that  I  may  be  allowed  to 'test  the  theory 
by;  its  practical  working  in  an  Industrial  School  in  connection  with 
theTarm  Colony.  #  I  should  begin  probably  with  children  selected 
for  their  goodness  and  capacity,  with  a  view  to  imparting  a  superior 
education,  thus  fitting  them  for  the  position  of  Officers  in  all  parts  of 
the  t world,  with  the  special  object  of  raising  up  a  body  of  men 
thoroughly  trained  and  educated,  among  other  things,  to  carry  out 
all  the  branches  of  the  Social  work  that  are  set  forth  in  this  book, 
and  it  may  be  to  instruct  other  nations  in  the  same. 


•M 


'*4i 


ri      >'l 


'U  '*!]' 


1 


'X:} 


■;-;■< 

'V-.  Ill 


I  be  loved, 
al  bent  of 
cultivated. 
;nticeship, 
s  learning 
5  predilec- 
ity  if  not 
f  adapted 
capacity, 
inclination 


:| 


t 


Jllc 

'm( 
be 
efl 
he 


Section  la— ASYLUMS  FOR  MORAL^  LUNATICS.^ 

There  will  remain,  after  all  has  been  said  and  done,  one  problem 
that  has  yet  to  be  faced.  You  may  minimise  the  difficulty  every  way, 
and  it  is  your  duty  to  do  so,  but  no  amount  of  hopefulness  can  make 
us  blink  the  fact  that  when  all  has  been  done  and  every  chance 
has  been  offered,  when  you  have  forgiven  your  brother  not  only 
seven  times  but  seventy  times  seven,  when  you  have  fished  him 
up  from  the  mire  and  put  him  on  firm  ground  only  to  see 
him  relapse  and  again  relapse  until  you  have  no  strength  left  to 
pull  him  out  once  more,  there  will  still  remain  a  residuum  of 
men  and  women  who  have,  whether  from  heredity  or  custom,  or 
hopeless  demoralisation,  become  reprobates.  After  a  certain  time, 
some  men  of  science  hold  that  persistence  in  habits  tends  to  convert 
a  man  from  a  being  with  freedom  of  action  and  will  into  a  mere 
automaton.';v' There  are  some  cases  within  our  knowledge  which 
seem  to  confirm  the  somewhat  dreadful  verdict  by  which  a  man 
appears  to  be  a  lost  soul  on  this  side  of  the  grave. ' 

There  are  men  so  incorrigibly  lazy  that  no ,  inducement  that 
you.  can  .  offer  will  tempt  them  to  ^work  ;  so  eaten  up  )y  vice 
tiiat  virtue  is  V abhorrent ;  to  -them,  and  •■  so  .  inveterately  dishonest 
that  theft  is  to  them  a  master  passion,  i,'  When  a  human  being  has 
reached  that  stage,  there  is  only  ••  one  course  that  can  be  rationally 
pursued.  •  Sorrowfully,  but  remorselessly,  it;:  must  be  recognised 
that  he  -has»j  become  lunatic,^morally  demented,  incapable  of  self- 
government,,  and^that•.,uponv  him,"  therefore, T must  be  passed r. the 
sjntence  of  permanent  seclusion  from. a  world  in  which  he  is  not  fit 
to  be  at  large.5;Tlie  ultimate  destiny  of  these  poor  wretches;  should 
be  a  penal  settlement, where:  they  could  be7Confined|du.ririg;jHer 
Majes^y's^ivpleasure';  as ijare:  the  criminal^  lunaticsj^ 
It  j^  acrimc  against  the^race  to  allow  those  who-iire  so  iriveteratelyi 
dsjpraYcdUtliBiiifccftdfim-  toijwander.  abroad,:infect  itheirlfclloy  '^- 


^TICSL^ 

'e,  one  problem 
:ulty  every  way, 
ilness  can  make 
d  every  chance 
rother  not  only 
lave  fished  him 
d    only  to   see 
strength  left  to 
a  residuum  of 
or  custom,  or 
a  certain  time, 
ends  to  convert 
n  into  a  mere 
owledge   which 
which  a  man 

ducement   that 
n  up    iy  vice 
tely  dishonest 
man  being  has 
1  be  rationally 
be  recognised 
ipable  of  self- 
e  passed  r;the 
:h  he  is  not  .fit 
etches;  should 
||during5-Her 
'^^Broadmoor. 
0  inveterateJy, 


jdl*JECTS^OFJ&1N  FINJTE-LiCO  M  RASSION  J 


e05f 


QpofJ^ocietyivaiiS.  to  ■mfiltiplyr^lTeiF:-Tnin3l  WHfatever,  felge^SociSlyi 
Jiiay  do,  and  suffer.'  to  be  done,  this  thing  it  ought  not^b^lalldv/^'SEmyi 
'more  than  it  should  allow  the  free  perambulation  of  a. mad  dog;  But 
before  we  come  to  this  I  would  have  every  possible  means  tried  to 
effect  their  reclamation.  Let  Justice  punish  them,  and  Mercy,rput 
her  arms  around  them  ;  let  them  be  appealed  to  by  penalty  arid  by 
reason,  and  by  every  influence,  human  and  Divine,  that  can  possibly 
be  brought  to  bear  upon  them.  -  Then,  if  all  alike  failed,  their  ability 
to  further  curse  their  fellows  and  themselves  should  be  stayed/ 

They  will  still  remain  objects  worthy  of  infinite  compassion.  -They 
should  lead  as  human  a  life  as  is  possible  to  those  who  have  fallen 
under  so  terrible  a  judgment.  They  should  have  their  own  little  cottages 
in  their  own  little  gardens,  under  the  blue  sky,  and,  if  possible,  amid  the 
green  fields.  I  would  deny  them  none  of  the  advantages,  moral,  mental, 
and  religious  which  might  minister  to  their  diseased  minds,  and  tend  to 
restore  them  to  a  better  state.  Not  until  the  breath  leaves  their 
bodies  should  we  cease  to  labour  and  wrestle  for  their .  salvation 
But  when  they  have  reached  a  certain  point  access  to  their  fellow 
men  should  be  forbidden.  .  Between  them  and  the  wide  world  there 
should  be  reared  an  impassable  barrier,  which  once  passed  should  be 
recrossed  no  more  for  ever.  Such  a  course  must  be  v/iser  than  allow- 
ing them  to  go  in  and  out  among  their  fellows,  canying  with  them 
the  contagion  of  moral  leprosy,  and  multiplying  a  progeny  doomed 
before  its  birth  to  inherit  the  vices  and  diseased  cravings  of  their 
unhappy  parents. 
To  these  proposals  three  leading  objections  will  probably  be  raised, 
I.  It  may  be  said  that  to  shut  out  men  and  women  from 

that  liberty  which  is  their  universal  birthright  would  be 

cruel. 
To  this  it  might  be  sufficient  to  reply,  that  this  is  already  done  ; 
twenty  years'  immurement  is  a  very  common  sentence  passed  upon 
wrong-doers,  and  in  some  cases  the  law  u,je3  as  far  as  to  inflict 
penal  servitude  for  life.  But  we  say  further  that  it  would  be  far 
more  merciful  treatment  than  th?.f  which  is  dealt  out  to  them  at 
present,  and  it  would  be  far  more  likely  to  secure  a  pleasant  existence. 
Knowing  their  fate  they  would  soon  become  resigned  to  it.  Habits 
of  industry,  sobriety,  and  kindness  with  them  would  create  a  restful- 
ness  of  spirit  which  goes  far  on  in  the  direction  of  happiness,  and  if 
religion  nxre  added  it  would  make  that  happiness  complete. 
There  might  be  set  continually  before  them  a  large  measure  of  free-, 


I:,: 


:! 


'■kw 


t: 


.:'  V 


i  'r, 


■  r!:J 


i  I'  ','1 

m 


'I      m 


mm^ 


1 


^- 


206^ 


ASYLUMS  FOR  MORAL    LUNATICS. 


idom  and  more  frequent  intercourse  with  the  world  in  the  shape  of 
correspondence,  f newspapers,  and  even  occasional  interv'ews  with 
relatives,  as  rewards  for  well-doing,  'f  And  in  sickness  and  old  age 
their  latter  days  might  be  closed  in  comfort.  In  fact,  so  far  as' this 
class  of  people  were  concerned,  we  can  see  that  they  vA>uld  be  far 
better  circumstanced  for  happiness  in  this  life  and  in  the  life  to 
come  than  in  their  present  liberty — if  a  life  spent  alternatively 
in  drunkenness,  debauchery,  and  crime,  on  the  one  hand,  or  the 
prison  on  the  other,  can  be  called  liberty. 

2.  It  may  be  said  that  the  carrying  out  of  such  a  sug- 

!  gestipn  would  be  too  expensive. 
To  this  we  reply  that  it  would  have  to  be  very  costly  to  exceed 
the  expense  in  which  all  such  characters  invblve  the  nation  under 
the  present  regulations  of  vice  and  crime.  But  there  is  no  need  for 
any  great  expense,  seeing  that  after  the  first  outlay  the  inmates  of 
such  an  institution,  if  it  were  fixed  upon  the  land,  would  readily 
earn  all  that  would  be  required  for  their  support. 

3.  But  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  impossible. 

It  would  certainly  be  impossible  other  than  as  a  State  regulation. 
But  it  Would  surely  be  a  very  simple  matter  to  <  ••act  a  law  which 
should  decree  that  after  an  individual  had  sufferev  a  certain  number 
of  convictions  for  crime,  drunkenness,  or  vagrancy,  he  should  forfeit 
his  freedom  to  roam  abroad  and  curse  his  fellows.  When  I  in- 
clude vagrancy  in  this  list,  I  do  it  on  the  supposition  that  the  oppor- 
tunity and  ability  for  work  are  present.  Otherwise  it  seems  to  me 
most  heartless  to  punish  a  hungry  man  wiio  begs  for  food  because 
he  can  in  no  other  way  obtain  it.  '  But  with  the  opportunity  and 
ability* for  work  I  would  count  the  solicitation  of  charity  a  crime,  and 
punish  it  as  such.  Anyway,  if  a  man  would  not  work  of  his  own 
free  will  I  would  compel  him. 


I'' 


the  shape  of 
terv'ews  with 

and  old  age 
so  far  as!  this 
wbuld  be  far 
n  the  life  to 

alternatively 
hand,  or  the 


such  a 


sug- 


itly  to  exceed 

nation  under 

no  need  for 

inmates  of 

/ould  readily 

e  regulation. 

law  which 
tain  number 
lould  forfeit 
Vhen  I  in- 

the  oppor- 
eems  to  me 
od  because 
tunity  and 
crime,  and 
)f  his  own 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ASSISTANCE  IN  GENERAL. 

There  are  many  who  are  not  lost,  who  need  help.  A  little  assis- 
tance given  to-day  will  perhaps  prevent  the  need  of  having  to  save 
them  to-morrow.  There  are  some,  who,  after  they  have  been 
rescued,  will  still  need  a  friendly  hand.  The  very  service  which  we 
have  rendered  them  at  starting  makes  it  obligatory  upon  us  to  finish 
the  good  work.  Hitherto  it  may  be  objected  that  the  Scheme  has 
dealt  almost  exclusively  with  those  who  are  more  or  less  disreputable 
and  desperate.  This  was  inevitable.  We  obey  our  Divine  Master 
and  seek  to  save  those  who  are  lost.  But  because,  as  I  said  at  the 
beginning,  urgency  is  claimed  rightly  for  those  who  have  no  helper, 
we  do  not,  therefore,  forget  the  needs  and  the  aspirations  of  the 
decent  working  people  who  are  poor  indeed,  but  who  keep  their  feet, 
who  have  not  fallen,  and  who  help  themselves  and  help  each  other. 
They  constitute  the  bulk  of  the  nation.  There  is  an  uppercrust  and 
a  submerged  tenth.  But  the  hardworking  poor  people,  who  earn 
a  pound  a  week  or  less,  constitute  in  every  land  the  majority  of  the 
population.  We  cannot  forget  them,  for  we  are  at  home  with  them. 
We  belong  to  them  and  many  thousands  of  them  belong  to  us.  We 
are  always  studying  how  to  help  them,  and  we  think  this  can  be  done 
in  many  ways,  some  of  which  I  proceed  to  describe. 


i  H\ 


;ii''" 


r 


'>.' 


•j&f-S 


amM 


MlPPii 


U 


t  ] 


Section  i.-lMPROVED  LODGINGS. 

The  necessity  for  a  superior  class  of  lodgings  for  the  poor  men 
rescued  at  our  Shelters  has  been  forcing  itself  already  upon  our 
notice,  ^and  demanding  attention.  One  of  the  first  things  that 
happens  when  a  man,  lifted  out  of  the  gutter,  has  obtained  a 
situation,  and  is  earning  a  decent  livelihood,  is  for  him  to  want  some 
better  accommodation  than  that  afforded  at  the  Shelters.  We  have 
some  hundreds?  on  our  hands  now  v/ho  can  afford  to  pay  for  greater 
comfort  and  seclusion.  These  are  continually  saying  to  us  something 
like  the  following : 

"The  Shelters  are  all  very  well  when  a  man  is  down  in  liis  luck. 
They  have  been  a  good  thing  for  us ;  in  fact,  had  it  not  been  for 
them,  we  would  still  have  been  v/ithout  a  friend,  sleeping  on  the 
Embankment,  getting  our  living  dishonestly,  or  not  getting  a  living 
at  .ill.  We  have  now  got  work,  and  want  a  bed  to  sleep  on,  and  a 
room  to  ourselves,  and  a  box,  or  something  where  we  can  stow  away 
our  bits  of  things.  Cannot  you  do  something  for  us  ?  "  We  have 
replied  that  there  were  Lodging-houses  elsewhere,  which,  now  that 
they  were  in  work,  they  could  afford  to  pay  for,  where  they  would 
obtain  the  comfort  they  desired.  To  this  they  answer,  "  That  is  all 
very  well.  We  know  there  are  these  places,  and  that  we  could  go 
to  them.  But  then,"  they  said,  "  you  see,  here  in  the  Shelters  are 
our  mates,  who  think  as  we  do.  And  there  is  the  prayer,  and  the 
meeting,  and  kind  influence  every  night,  that  helps  to  keep  us 
straight.  ;  We  would  like  a  better  place,  bult  if  you  cannot  find  us 
one  we  would  rather  stop  in  the  Shelter  and  sleep  on  the  floor,  as 
we  have  been  doing,  than  go  to  something  more  complete,  get  into 
bad  company,  and  so  fall  batck  again  to  where  we  were  before." 
^•v  But  ^this,-  although  natural,  is  not  desirable  ;  for,  if  the  ^process 
went  on,  in  course  of  time  the  whole  of  the  Shelter  Dep6ts  would  be 
taken  up  by  persons  who  had  risen  above  thc.class  for. whom  they. 


THE   POOR   MAN'S    METROPOLE. 


209 


were  originally  destined.  1  propose,  therefore,  to  draft  those  who  get 
on,  but  wish  to  continue  in  connection  with  the  Army,  into  a  superiQi? 
lodging-house,  .a  sort  of 

POOR  man's  METROPOLE, 

managed  on  tne  same  principles,  but  with  better  accommodation 
in 'every  way,  which,  I  anticipate,  would  be  self-supporting  from 
the  first.  In  these  homes  there  would  be  separate  dormitories, 
good  sitting-rotPiS,  cooking  conveniences,  baths,  a  hall  for  meetings, 
and  many  othei  comforts,  of  which  all  would  have  the  benefit  at  as 
low  a  figure  above  cost  price  as  will  not  only  pay  interest  on  the 
original  outlay,  but  secure  us  against  any  shrinkage  of  capital. 
•  -,  Something  superior  in  this  direction  will  also  be  required  for  the 
women.  Having  begun,  we  must  go  on.  Hitherto  I  have  proposed 
to  deal  only  with  single  men  and  single  women,  but  one  of  the  conse- 
quences of  getting  hold  of  these  men  very  soon  makes  itself  felt.  Your 
ragged,  hungry,  destitute  Out-of-Work  in  almost  every  case  is  married. 
When  he  comes  to  us  he  comes  as  single  and  is  dealt  with,  as 
such,  but  after  you  rouse  in  him  aspirations  for  better  things, he 
remembers  the  wife  whom  he  has  probably  enough  deserted,  or 
left  from  sheer  inability  to  provide  her  anything  to  eat.  As  soo»i  as 
such  a  man  finds  himself  under  good  influence  and  fairly  employed  his 
first  thought  is  to  go  and  look  after  the  "Missis."  There  is  very 
little  reality  about  any  change  of  heart  in  a  married  man  who  does 
not  thus  turn  in  sympathy  and  longing  towards  his  wife,  and  the 
more  successful  we  are  in  dealing  with  these  people  the  more 
inevitable  it  is  that  we  shall  be  confronted  with  married  couples 
who  in  turn  demand  that  we  should  provide  for.  them  lodgings 
This  we  propose  to  do  also  on  a  commercial  footing.  I  see  greater 
developments  in  this  direction,  one  of  which  vhl  be  described  in  the 
chapter  relating  to  Suburban  Cottages.  TVie  Model-lodging  House 
fot'  Married  People  is,  however,  one  of  those  things  that  must  be 
provided  as  an  adjunct  of  the  Food  and  Shelter  Depots. 


'■'M 


'■--^: 


Section   j— MODEL   SUBURBAN   VILLAGES. 

As  I  have  repeatedly  stated  already,  but  will  state  once  more, 
for  it  is  important  enough  to  bear  endless  repetition,  one  of  the 
first  steps  which  must  inevitably  be  taken  in  the  reformation  of  this 
class,  is  to  make  for  them  decent,  healthy,  pleasant  homes,  or  help 
them  to  make  them  for  themselves,  which,  if  possible,  is  far  better. 
I  do  not  regard  the  institution  of  any  first,  second,  or  third-class 
lodging-houses  as  affording  anything  but  palliatives  of  the  existing 
distress.  To  substitute  life  in  a  boarding-house  for  life  in  the 
streets  is,  no  doubt,  an  immense  advance,  but  it  is  by  no  means 
the  ultimatum.  Life  in  a  hoarding-house  is  better  than  the  worst, 
but  it  is  far  from  being  the  best  form  of  human  existence.  Hence, 
the  object  I  constantly  keep  in  view  is  how  to  pilot  those  persons 
who  have  been  set  on  their  feet  again  by  means  of  the  Food  and 
Shelter  Dep6ts,  and  who  have  obtained  employment  in  the  City, 
into  the  possession  of  homes  of  their  own. 

Neither  can  I  regard  the  one,  or  at  most  two,  rooms  in  which  the 
large  majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  our  great  cities  lire  compelled 
to  spend  their  days,  as  a  solution  of  the  question.  The  over- 
crowding which  fills  every  separate  room  of  a  tenement  with  a 
human  litter,  and  compels  family  life  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  to 
be  lived  within  the  four  walls  of  a  single  apartment,  must  go  on 
reproducing  in  endless  succession  all  the  terrible  evils  which  such  a 
state  of  things  must  inevitably  create. 

Neither  can  I  be  satisfied  with  the  vast,  unsightly  piles  of 
barrack-like  buildings,  which  are  only  a  slight  advance  upon  the 
Union  Bastille— dubbed  Model  Industrial  Dwellings — so  much  in 
fashion  at  present,  as  being  a  satisfactory  settlement  of  the  burning 
question  of  the  housing  of  the  poor. 

^;  As  a  contribution  to  this  question,  I  propose  the  establishment  of 
.a^series^oLIndustrial  Settlements  or. Suburban  Villages,  lying  out  in 


WORKMEN'S   COTTAGESA 


ifiwi 


ic ''country,^!;  within  va'^rcasonnble'dfsta'ncerof;  all  ^buirfgrcat'^^^ 
lomposed  of  cottages  of  suitable  size  and  construction,  and  with  !all 
jeedful  comfort  and  accommodation  for  the  families  of  working-men,; 
le,. rent; of    which,    together   with   the  "railway   fare,;' and   other, 
jconomic  conveniences,  should  be  within  the  reach  of /a.  family^  of 
loderate  income.  ' 

This  proposal  lies  slightly  apart  from  the  scope  of  v  this  book, 
Otherwise  I  should  be  disposed  to  elaborate  the  project  at  greater 
:ngth.  I  may  say,  however,  that  what  I  here  propose  has  been^ 
larefully  thought  out,  and  is  of  a  perfectly  practical  character.  .In 
Ihe  planning  of  it  I  have  received  some  valuable  assistance  from  a 
friend  who  has  had  considerable  experience  in  the  building  trade, 
Ind  he  stakes  his  professional  reputation  on  its  feasibility.  The 
[ollowing,  however,  may  be  taken  as  a  rough  outline  :— -I 

The  Village  should  not  be  more  than  twelve  miles  'from  •  town  ; 
^hould  be  in  a  dry  and  healthy  situation,  and  on  a  line  of  railway. 
It  is  not  absolutely  necessary  that  it  should  be  near  a  station,  seeing 
[hat  the  company  would,  for  their  own  .  interests,  immediately 
;rect  one. 

The  Cottages  should  be  built  of  the  best  material  and  workman- 
ship. This  would  be  effected  most  satisfactorily  by  securing  a 
contract  for  the  labour  only,  the  projectors  of  the  Scheme  purchasing 
khe  materials  and  supplying  them  direct  from  the  manufacturers  to 
the  builders.  The  cottages  would  consist  of  three  or  four  rooms, 
fith  a  scullery,  and  out-building  in  the  garden,  'f.  The  cottages 
should  be  built  in  terraces,  each  having .- a  good "  garden 
ittached. 

Arrangements  should  be  made  for  the  erection  '  of  from  one 
thousand  to  two  thousand  houses  at  the  onset. 

In  the  Village  a  Co-operative  Goods  Store  should  be  established, 
supplying  everything  that  was  really  necessary  for  the  villagers  at 
the  most  economic  prices 

The  sale  of  intoxicating  drink  should  be  strictly  forbidden  on  the 
jEstate,  and,  if  possible,  tlvi  landowner  from  whom  the  land  is 
lobtained  should  be  tied  off  from  allowing  any  licences  to  be  held  on 
|any  other  portion  of  the  adjoining  land. 

It  is  thought  that  the  Railway  Company,  in  consideration  of  the 
linconvenience  and  suffering  they  have  inflicted  on  the  poor,  and  in 
jtheir  own  interests,  might  be  induced  to  make  the  fc^wing 
■advantageous  arrangements: — 


1'  ti 


:r.;;i 


rf 


p 


!fl 


h!  ! 


212 


f^ODELT  SUBURBAN  ; VILLAGES. 


(1)  Th^'cenyisyance  of  each  member  actually  living  in  the  villa( 
to  .aiid<i-f^m|i:^ndon:at  the  rate  of  ('sixpence  per'week^^lEach  paj 
should -have  oh  :lt' the  portrait  of<  the  owner,. and  be  fastened  to  sor 
article  'of^^theSidress,  ■•  nnd  be  available^bnly^by  Workmen's^Traiil 
runningiearly^and  late  and  during  certain'hours'of-theday,  wh6n4]j 
trains  are^'almost  empty. 

(2)  The  conveyance  of  goods  and  parcels  should  be  at  half  tlj 
ordinary  rates. 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  large  landowners  would  glad] 
give  one  hundred  acres  of  land  in  view  of  the  immensely  advance 
values  of  the  surrounding  property  which  would  immediately  follo\^ 
seeing  that  the  erection  of  one  thousand  or  two  thousand  cottagj 
would  constitute  the  nucleus  of  a  much  larger  Settlement. 

Lastly,  the  rent  of  a  four-roomed  cottage   must  not  exceed  3! 
per  week.     Add  to  this  the  sixpenny  ticket  to  and  from  Londof 
and  you  have  3s.  6d.,  and  if  the  company  should  insist  on  is., 
will  make  4s.,  for  which  there  would   be  all  the  advantages  of 
comfortable  cottage — of  which  it  would  be  possible  for  the  tenant 
become  the  owner — a  good  garden,  pleasant  surroundings,  and  oth^ 
influences  promotive  of  the  health  and  happiness  of  the  family, 
is  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  in  connection  with  this  Villa^ 
there  will  be  perfect  freedom  of  opinion  on  all  matters.     A  glance 
the  ordinary  homes  of  the  poor  people  of  this  great  City  will  at  onij 
assure  us  that  such  a  village  would  be  a  veritable  Paradise  to  ther 
and  that  were  four,  five,  or  six  settlements  provided  at  once  the 
would  not  contain  a  tithe  of  the  people  who  would. throng  to  occuf 
them. 


1:  ' 


d  be  at  half  d 


•■';] 


Section  3.-.THE  POOR  MAN'S  BANK. 

I  If  the  Jove  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  the  want  of  money  is 
|e  cause  of  an  immensity  of  evil  and  trouble.  The  moment  you 
jgin  practically  to  alleviate  the  miseries  of  the  people,  you  discover 
jat  the  eternal  want  of  pence  is  one  of  their  greatest  difficulties.    In 

most  sanguine  moments  I  have  never  dream.ed  of  smoothing  this 
[fficulty  out  of  the  lot  of  man,  but  it  is  surely  no  unattainable  ideal 

establish  a  Poor  Man's  Bank,  which  will  extend  to  the  lower 
tddle  class  and  the  working  population  the  advantages  of  the  credit 
jstem,  v/hich  is  the  very  foundation  of  our  boasted  commerce, 
lit  might  be  better  that  there  should  be  no  such  thing  as  credit, 
lat  no  one  shjuid  lend  money,  and  that  everyone  should  be  com- 
piled to  rely  solely  upon  whatever  ready  money  he  may  possess 
)m  day  to  day.     But  if  so,  lei  us  apply  the  principle  all  round  ;  do 
)t  let  us  ^lory  in  our  world-wide  commerce  and  boast  ourselves  in 
ir  riches,  obtained,  in  so  many  cases,  by  the  ignoring  of  this  prin- 
Iple.     If  it  is  right  for  a  great  merchant  to  have  dealings  with  his 
nker,  if  it  is  indispensable  for  the  due  carrying  on  of  the  business 
the  rich  men  that  they  should  have  at  their  elbow  a  credit  system 
[hich  will    from    time   to   time   accommodate   them .  with   needful 
Ivance's;  and.  enable  them   to  stand  up  against  the  pressure  of 
idden: demands,  "'hich  otherwise  would  wreek.^  them,  then'  surely 
le  case' is  still  stronger  for  providing  a  similar  resource  for  the 
laller  "men,  the  weaker  men.  ■;  At  present  Society  is  organised  far 
)o  much  "on  the  principle  |Of  giving  to. him  who  hath  so  that  he 
[nil  have  more  abundantly,  and  taking  away  from  him  who  hath 

even  that  which  he  hath.i 

If  we  are  to  really  benefit  the  poor,  we  can  only  do  so  by  practical 

feasures.     We  have  merely  to  look  round  and  see  the  kind  of 

livantages  which   wealthy  men    fnd    indispensable  for   the   due 

[r.nagcment  of  tht-ir  business,  r.iid  ..::i;  ouiicivcs  whether 'poor  men 


i^ 


'H 


'ii 


1214' 


THE.  POOR    MAN'S    BANK; 


!   I 


cannot  be  supplied  with  the  same  opportunities.   .  The^reason  why! 

they  are  not  is  obvious.     To.  supply  the  needs  of  the  rich  is  a  meand 

of  iinaking  yourself  rich;    to  supply  the  needs   of. the   poor   will 

involve  you  in  trouble  so  out  of  proportion  to  the  profit,  that  the 

game  may  not  be  worth  the  candle.      Men  go  into  banking  and| 

other  businesses  for  the  sake   of  obtaining   what  *  the  •*  American 

humourist  said  was  the  chief  end  of  man  in  these  modern  f  times, 

namely,  "ten  per  cent."     To  obtain  a  ten  per  cent,  what  will  not  men 

do?     They  will   penetrate  the   bowels  of  the   earth,'  explore   the 

depths  of  the  sea,  ascend  the  snow-capped  mountain's  highest  peak, 

or  navigate  the  air,  if  they  can  be  guaranteed  a  ten  per  cent.     I  do 

not  venture  to  suggest  that  the  business  of  a  Poor  Man's  Bank 

would  yield  ten  per  cent.,  or  even  five,  but  I  think  it  might  be  made 

to  pay  its  expenses,  and  the  resulting  gain  to  the  community  would 

be  enormous. 

Ask  any  merchant  in  your  acquaintance  where  his  business 
would  be  if  he  had  no  banker,  and  then,  when  you  have  his  answer, 
ask  yourself  whether  it  would  not  be  an  object  worth  taking  some 
trouble  to  secure,  to  furnish  the  great  mass  of  our  fellow  country- 
men, on  sound  business  principles  with  the  advantages  of  the  credit 
system,  which  is  found  to  work  so  beneficially  for  tho  "  well-to-do  " 
few. 

Some  day  I  hope  the  State  may  be  sufficiently  enlightened  to  take 
up  this  business  itself;  at  present  it  is  left  in  the  hands  of  the 
pawnbroker  and  the  loan  agency,  and  a  set  of  sharks,  who  cruelly  prey 
upon  the  interests  of  the  poor.  The  establishment  of  land  banks, 
where  the  poor  man  is  almost  always  a  peasant,  has  been  one  of  the 
features  of  modern  legislation  in  Russia,  Germany,  and  elsewhere. 
The  institution  of  a  Poor  Man's  Bank  will  be,  I  hope,  before  long, 
one  of  the  recognised  objects  of  our  own  government. 

Pending  that  I  venture  to  throw  out  a  suggestion,  withc':t  in  any 
way  pledging  myself  to  add  this  branch  of  activity  to  the  already 
gigantic  rar^e  of  V)perations  foreshadowed  in  this  book — Would  it  not 
be  possible  for  some  philanthropists  with  capital  to  establish  on 
cloarJy  defined  principles  a  Poor  Man's  Bank  for  the  making  of  small 
loans  on  •good,  security,  or  making  advances  to  those  who  are  in 
dangerof  being  overwhelmed  by  sudden  financial  pressure— in  fact,  for 
doing  for  the  "  little  man  "  what  all  the  banks  do  for  the  "  big  man  "  ? 

Meanwhile,  should  it  enter  into  the  heart  of  some  benevolently  dis- 
posed possessor  of  wealth  to  give  the  price  of  a  racehorse,.or  of  ^n 


'-Al 


le^eason  why 
ich  is  a  means 
the  poor  will 
profit  that  the 

banking  and 
the  '^  American 
modern  I  times, 
It  will  not  men 
explore  the 

highest  peak, 
>er  cent.  I  do 
•  Man's  Bank 
might  be  made 
imunity  would 

his  business 
ve  his  answer, 
1  taking  some 
:llow  country- 
s  of  the  credit 
1 "  well-to-do " 

htened  to  take 
hands  of  the 
lo  cruelly  prey 
>f  land  banks, 
ien  one  of  the 
nd  elsewhere. 
2,  before  long, 

i^ithc*:t  in  any 
o  the  already 
-Would  it  not 

establish  on 
aking  of  small 
;  who  are  in 
re— in  fact,  for 

"big  man"? 
evolently  dis- 
rse,,or  of  ^n, 


PERSONAL    SECURITY; 


215 


old  master,"  to  form  the  nucleus  of  the  necessary  capital,  I  will  c  r- 
ainly  experiment  in  this  direction.  ' 

I  can  anticipate  the  sneer  of  the  cynic  v/ho  scoffs  at  what  he  calls 
ny  glorified  pawnshop.  I  am  indifiercnt  to  his  sneers.  A  Mont  de 
ietd — the  very  name  (Mount  of  Piety)  shows  that  the  Poor  Man's 
5ank  is  regarded  as  anything  but  an  objectionable  institution  across 
le  Channel — might  be  an  excellent  institution  in  England.  Owing, 
owever,  to  the  vested  interests  of  the  existing  traders  it  might  be 
inpossible  for  the  State  to  establish  it,  excepting  at  a  ruinous 
xpense.  There  would  be  no  difficulty,  however,  of  instituting  a 
private  Mont  de  Pidte,  which  would  confer  an  incalculable  boon  upon 
)e  struggling  poor. 

Further,  1  am  by  no  means  indisposed  to  recognise  the  necessity  of 
caling  with  this  subject  in  connection  with  the  Labour  Bureau, 
)rovided  that  one  clearly  recognised  principle  can  be  acted  upon. 
That  principle  is  that  a  man  shall  be  free  to  bind  himself  as  security 
or  the  repayment  of  a  loan,  that  is  to  pledge  himself  to  work  for  his 
ations  until  such  time  as  he  has  repaid  capital "  and  interest. 
(\n  illustration  or  two  will  explain  what  I  mean.  Here  is  a 
carpenter  who  comes  to  our  Labour  shed  ;  he  is  an  honest,  decent 
man,  who  has  by  sickness  or  some  other  calamity  been  reduced  to 
destitution.  He  has  by  degrees  pawned  one  article  after  another 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  until  v.t  last  he  has  been 
compelled  to  pawn  his  tools.  We  register  him,  and  an  employer 
omes  along  who  wants  a  carpenter  whom  we  can  recommend. 
We  at  once  suggest  this  man,  but  then  arises  this  difficulty. 
He  has  no  tools;  what  are  we  to  do?  As  things  are  at 
present,  the  man  loses  the  job  and  continu'es  on  our  hands. 
Obviously  it  is  most  desirable  in  the  interest  of  the  community 
that  the  man  should  get  his  tools  out  of  pawn  ;  but  who  is  to 
take  the  responsibility  of  advancing  the  money  to  redeem  them  ? 
This  difficulty  might  be  met,  I  think,  by  the  man  entering  into  a 
legal  undertaking  to  make  over  his  wages  to  us,  or  such  proportion 
of  them  as  would  be  convenient  to  his  circumstances,  we  in  return 
undertaking  to  find  him  in  food  and  shelter  until  such  time 
as  he  has  repaid  the  advance  made.  That  obligation  it  would  be 
the  truest  kindness  to  enforce  with  Rhadamantine  severity.  Until 
the  man  is  out  of  debt  he  is  not  his  own  master.  All  that  he  can 
inake  over  his  actual  rations  and  Shelter  money  should  belong  to  his 
creditor  .  Of  course  such  an  arrangement  might  be  varied  indefinitely 


■  ^,!l' 


:i;;i 


% . 

I, 


& 


(.1  " 


K  ,. 


"I'! 
J:;' 


.1! 


il  i 


i  ! 


ei6 


THE    POOR    MAN'S    BANK. 


by  private  agreement ;  the  repayment  of  instalments  could  be  spread 
over  a  longer  or  shorter  time,  but  the  mainstay  of  the  whole  principle 
would  be  the  execution  of  a  legal  agreement  by  which  the  man  makes 
over  the  whole  product  of  his  labour  to  the  Bank  until  he  has  repaid 
his  debt. 

Take  another  instance./ A" clerk  who  has  been  maiiy  years  in  a 
situation  and  has  a  large  family,  which  he  has  brought  up  respectabl}' 
and  educated.  He  has  every  prospect  of  retiring  in  a  few  yean 
upon  a  superannuating  allowance,  but  is  suddenly  confronted  by  a  claim 
often  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  of  a  sum  of  fifty  or  a  hundred 
pounds,  which  is  quite  beyond  his  means.  He  has  been  a  careful, 
saving  man,  who  has  never  borrowed  a  penny  in  his  life,  and  docs 
not  know  where  to  turn  in  his  emergency.  If  he  cannot  raise  this 
money  he  will  be  sold  up,  his  family  will  be  scattered,  his  situation 
and  his  prospective  pension  will  be  lost,  and  blank  ruin  will  stare 
him  in  the  face.  Now,  were  he  in  receipt  of  an  income  of  ten  times 
the  amount,  he  would  probably  have  a  banking  account,  and,  in 
consequence,  be  able  to  secure  aA  advance  of  all  he  needed  from  his 
banker.  Why  should  he  not  be  able  to  pledge  his  salary,  or 
portion  of  it, ,  to  an  Institution  which  would  enable  him  to  pay  off 
his  debt,  on  terms  that,  while  sufficiently  remunerative  to  the 
bank,  would  not  unduly  embarrass  him? 

At  present  what  does  the  poor  wretch  do  ?  He  consults  his 
friends,  who,  it  is  quite  possible,  are  as  hard  up  as  himself,  or  he 
applies  to  some  loan  agency,  and  as  likely  as  not  falls  into  the 
hands  of  sharpers,  who  indeed,  let  him  have  the  money,  but  at  interest 
altogether  out  of  proportion  to  the  risk  which  they  run,  and  use  th 
advantage  which  their  position  gives  them  to  extort  every  penny  he 
has.  A  great  black  book  written  witWin  and  without  in  letters  of" 
lamentation,  mourning,  and  woe  might  be  written  on  the  dealings  of 
these  usurers  with  their  victims  in  every  land 

It  is  of  little  service  denouncing  these  extortioners.  They  have 
always  existed,  an*  probably "^  always  will;  but  what  we  can  do 
is  to  circumscribe  the  range  of  their  operations  and  the  number 
of  their  victims.  This  can  only  be  done  by  a  legitimate  and 
merciful  provision  for  these  poor  creatures  in  their  hours  cf 
desperate  need,  so  as  to  prevent  their  falling  into  the  hands  cf 
these  remorseless  wretches,  who  have  wrecked  the  fortunes  of 
thousands,  and  driven  many,  a  decent  man  to  suicide  orv:a*.prc- 
mature  grave. 


n 


»uld  be  spread 

/hole  principle 

he  man  makes 

he  has  repaid 

ny  years  in  a 
up  respectabl}' 
I  a  few  years 
ited  by  a  claim 
>r  a  hundred 
;en  a  careful, 
life,  and  doea 
lot  raise  this 

his  situation 
uin  will  stare 
;  of  ten  times 
:ount,  and,  in 
ided  from  his 

salary,  or  a 
im  to  pay  off 
ative    to   the 

consults  his 
himself,  or  he 
falls  into  the 
but  at  interest 

and  use  the 
'ery  penny  he 

in  letters  of 
le  dealings  of 

They  have 
It  we  can  do 

1  the  number 
sgitimate  and 
eir  hours  of 
the  hands  of 

2  fortunes  of 
de  or-a}.prc- 


^■K^ 


HAROSHIP>^OF   THE    HIRE   SYSTEM. 


217 


»■■■■■  ■    ■■■iiw— I—  IIW  II   P^^i,.,  if,        .      ,1      .,        |.     ■  ,--^—   ■■.^■— .^  ■     ...I  ■■_.■,   II        — •■■  -.-ii  ■  ■■       ■■■■11 

Thwe  are  endless  ramifications  of  this  principle,  w'lich  do  not' 
leed  to  be  described  h€fe,  but>  btlbre  leaving  the  subject  I  may 
allude  to  an  evil  which  is  ^  cruel  reality,  alas !  to  a  multitude  of 
unfortunate  men  and  women.  I  refer  to  the  working  of  the  Hire 
System.  The  decent  poor;  man- or  woman- who  is  anxious  to 
cam  an  honest  penny  by  the  use  of,  it  may  be  a  mangle,  or  a 
sewing-machine,  a  lathe,  or  some  other  indispensable  instrument, 
and  is  without  the  few  pounds  necessary  to  buy  it,  must  take  it  on 
the  Hire  System — that  is  to  say,  for  the  accommodation  of  being 
•allowed  to  pay  for  the  machine  by  instalments — he  is  charged,  in 
ddition  to  the  full  market  value  of  his  purchase,  ten  or  twenty  times 
the  amount  of  what  would  be  a  fair  rate  of  interest,  and  more  than 
his  if  he  should  at  any  time,  through  misfortune,  fail  in  his  payment, 
the  total  amount  already  paid  will  be  confiscated,  the  machine  seized, 
and  the  money  lost. 

Here  again  we  fall  back  on  our  analogy  of  what  goes  on  in  a 
small  community  where  neighbours  know  each  other.  Take,  for 
instance,  when  a  lad  who  is  recognised  as  bright,  promising,  honest, 
and  industrious,  who  wants  to  make  a  start  in  life  which  requires 
some  little  otJtlay,  his  better-to-do  neighbour  will  often  assist 
lim  by  providing  the  capital  necessary  to  enable  him  to  make 
a  way  for  himself  in  the  world.  The  neighbour  does  this  becafuse 
he  knows  the  lad,  because  the  family  is  at  least  related  by  tics  of 
neighbourhood,  and  the  honour  of  the  lad's  family  is  a  security  upon 
which  a  man  may  safely  advance  a  small  sum.  All  this  would 
equally  apply  to  a  destitute  widow,  an  artizan  suddenly  thrown  out 
of  work,  an  orphan  family,  or  the  like.  In  the  large  City  all  this 
kindly  helpfulness  disappears,  and  with  it  go  all  those  small  acts  of 
service  which  are,  as  it  were,  the  buffers  which  save  men  from 
being  crushed  to  death  against  the  iron  walls  of  circumstances.  We 
must  try  to  replace  them  in  some  way  or  other  if  we  are  to  get 
back,  not  to  the  Garden  of  Eden,  but  to  the  ordinary  conditions 
of  life,  as  they  exist  in  a  healthy,  small  community.  No  institu- 
tion, it  is  true,  can  ever  replace  the  magic  bond  of  personal 
friendship,  but  if  we  have  the  whole  mass  of  Society  permeated. 
in  every  direction  by  brotherly  associations  established  for  the 
purpose  of  mutual  help  and  sympathising  counsel,  it  is  not  an 
impossible  thing  to  believe  that  v/e  shall  be  able  to  do  something 
to  restore  the  missing  element  in  modern  civilisation. 


I:  :i ' 


i''ii  ■ 

I 


'I'i 

I  I     V 


Ml 


Ml 


i  11 


\w ' 


li<< 


Section  4.— THE  POOR  MAN'S  LAWYER. 

The  moment  you  set  about  dealing  with  the  wants  of  the  people, 
you  discover  that  many  of  their  difficulties  are  not  material,  but 
moral.  There  never  was  a  greater  mistake  than  to  imagine  that  you 
have  only  to  fill  a  man's  stomach,  and  clothe  his  back  in  order  to 
secure  his  happiness.  Man  is,  much  more  than  a  digestive  apparatus 
liable  to  get  out  of  order.  Hence,  while  it  is  important  tor  remember 
that  man  has  a  stomach,  it  is  "also  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  that  he 
has  a  heart,  and  a  mind  that  is  frequently  sorely  troubled  by  diffi- 
culties which,  if  he  lived  in  a  friendly  world,  would  often  disappear. 
A  man,  and  still  more  a  woman,  stands  often  quite  as  niuch  in  need 
of  a  trusted  adviser  as  he  or  she  does  of  a  dinner  or  a  dress.  Many 
a  poor  soul  is  miserable  all  the  day  long,  and  gets  dragged  down 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  depths  of  sin  and  sorrow  and  despair  for 
want  of  a  sympathising  friend,  who  can  give  her  advice,  and  make 
her  feel  that  somebody  in  the  world  cares  for  her,  and  will  help  her 
if  they  can. 

If  we  are  to  bring  back  the  sense  of  brotherhood  to  the  world,  we 
must  confront  this  difficulty.  ;  God,  it  was  said  in  old  time,  setteth 
the  desolate  in  families ;  but  somehow,  in  our  time,  the  desolate 
wander  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  careless  and  unsympathising  world. 
"  There  is  no  one  who  cares  for  my  soul.  There  is  no  creature 
loves  me,  and  if  I  die  no  one  will  pity  me,"  is  surely  one  of  the 
bitterest  cries  that  can  burst  from  a  breaking  heart.  One  of  the 
secrets  of  the  success  of  the  Salvation  Army  is,  that  the  friendless  of 
the  world  find  friends  in  it.  There  is  not  one  sinner  in  the  world — ! 
no  matter  how  degraded  and  dirty  he  may  be — whom  my  people  will 
not  rejoif-"  to  take  by  the  hand  and  pray  with,  and  labour  for,  if 
thereby  they  can  but  snatch  him  as  a  brand  from  the  burning.^ 
Now,  we  want  to  make  more  use  of  this,  to  make  the  Salvation 
lArmyi^the.nucleus.^ofva^ceattagency  for.  bringing  comfort  and^counscl 


SOCIETY    NEEDS    "MOTHERING." 


219 


>f  the  people, 
material,  but 
gine  that  you 
ck  in  order  to 
ve  apparatus, 
to*  remember 
mind  that  he 
bled  by  diffi- 
sn  disappear. 
lUch  in  need 
Iress.  Many 
ragged  down 
d  despair  for 
e,  and  make 
irill  help  her 

he  world,  we 
time,  setteth 
the  desolate 
lising  world, 
no  creature 
one  of  the 
One  of  the 
friendless  of 
the  world — ; 
f  people  will 
ibour  for,  if 
he  burning, 
e  Salvation 
and;  counsel  I 


to  those  who  are  at  their  wits'  end,  feeling  as  if  in  the  whole  world 
there  was  no  one  to  whom  they  could  go. 

What  we  want  to  do  is  to  exemplify  to  the  world  the  family  idea. 
"  Our  Father  "  is  the  keynote.  One  is  Our  Father,  then  all  we  are 
brethren.  But  in  a  family,  if  anyone  is  troubled  in  mind  or 
conscience,  there  is  no  difficulty.  The  daughter  goes  to  her  father, 
or  the  son  to  his  mother,  and  pour  out  their  soul's  troubles,  and  are 
relieved.  If  there  is  any  serious  difficulty  a  family  council  is  held, 
and  all  unite  their  will  and  their  resources  to  get  matters  put 
straight.  This  is  what  we  mean  to  try  to  get  done  'n  the  New 
Organisation  of  Society  for  which  we  are  labouring.  We  cannot 
know  better  than  God  Almighty  what  will  do  good  to  man.  We  arc 
content  to  follow  on  His  lines,  and  to  mend  the  world  we  shall  seek 
to  restore  something  of  th-  family  idea  to  the  many  hundreds  of 
thousands  —  ay,  millions  —  who  have  no  one  wiser  or  more 
experienced  than  themselves,  to  whom  they  can  take  their  sorrows, 
or  consult  in  their  difficulties. 

Of  course  we  can  do  this  but  imperfectly.  Only  God  can  create  a 
mother.  But  Society  needs  a  great  deal  of  mothering,  much  more 
than  it  gets.  And  as  a  child  needs  a  mot.  *  to  run  to  in  its 
difficulties  and  troubles,  to  whom  it  can  let  out  its  little  heart  in 
confidence,  so  men  and  women,  weary  and  worn  in  the  battles 
of  life,  need  someone  to  whom  they  can  go  when  pressed  down 
with  a  sense  of  wrongs  suffered  or  done,  knowing  that  their  confi- 
dence will  be  preserved  inviolate,  and  that  their  statements  will 
be  received  with  sympathy.  I  propose  to  attempt  to  meet  this  want. 
I  shall  establish  a  department,  over  which  I  shall  place  the  wisest, 
the  pitifuUest,  and  the  most  sagacious  men  and  women  whom  I  can 
find  on  my  staff,  to  whom  all  those  in  trouble  and  perplexity  shall 
be  invited  to  address  themselves,  ft  is  no  .use  saying  that  we  love 
our  fellow  men  unless  we  try  to  help  them,  and  it  is  no  use  pretending 
to  sympathise  with  the  heavy  burdens  which  darken  Hicir  lives 
unless  we  try  to  ease  them  and  to  lighten  their  existence. 

Insomuch  as  we  have  more  practical  experience  of  life  than 
other  men,  by  so  much  are  we  bound  to  help  their  inexperience,  and 
share  our  talents  with  them.  But  if  we  believe  they  are  our  brothers, 
and  that  One  is  our  Father,  even  the  God  who  will  come  to  judge 
us  hereafter  for  all  the  deeds  that  we  have  done  in  the  body,  then 
must  we  constitute,  in  some  such  imperfect  way  as  is  open  to  us,  the 
parental  office.     We  must  be  willing  to  receive  the  outpourings  of  our. 


A 

■1 

"  i '  ■. 

■  ■■    ! 

'i! 

:     ■ 

■Ii! 

.n 
■■'1 

y . 

.  1 

-1) 

1'; 

■lli 

4 

' '  f 

i 

1 

1 

-  . 

1 

I 

I- 

■■'■  r 

! 

■ 

■  '  '  i 
'I 
1  j 

1 

I' 
1 

1 

V 

i    ■ 

'  i. 

f ' 

la 

/^20 


THEtP001^nRfA>J  'S^TTaWV  Eli: 


1  "•'?-•*« 


■v^:*'' 

)!'•'•. 


striiggbng  fellow  mcn',Ho'^iisten  "Ito^thciflong-buri'eq  secret", that-  has 
troubled  the  human  heart,  and  to  welcome  instead  of  repelling  those 
who  would  obey  the  Apostolic  precept :  "To  confess  their  sinS't^ne'to 
another."  Let  not  that  word  confession  scandalise  any.'^^Xonfcssio'n  of 
the  most  open  sort ;  confession  on  the  public  platform  before£the 
presence  of  all  the  man's  former  associates  in, sin  has  long  been  one  of 
the  most  potent  weapons  by  which  the  Salvation;;,Ar'niy  has.;w6h  its 
victories.  That  confession  we  have  long  imposed  on  all  our  converts," 
and  it  is  the  only  confession  which  seems  to  us  to  be  a  condition  of 
Salvation.  Hut  this  suggestion  is  of  a  different  kind.^;>It  is  notim-. 
posed  as  a  moans  of  grace.  It  is  not  put  forward  as  a  preliminary  to 
the  absolution  which  no  one  can  pronounce  but  our  Lord  Himself.-  It  is 
merely  a  response  on  our  part  to  on?  of  the  deepest  needs  and 
secret  longings  of  the  actual  men  and  women  who  are  meeting  us 
daily  in  our  work.  Why  should  they  be  left  to  brood  jn'^niisery 
over  their  secret  sin,  when  a  plain  straightforward  talk  withfa.man 
or  woman  selected  for  his  or  her  sympathetic  common-sense  and 
spiritual  experience  might  take  the  weight  off  their  shoulders  which 
is  crushing  them  into  dull  despair? 

No  for  absolution,  but  for  sympathy  and  direction,  do  I  propose  lo 
establish  my  Advice  Bureau  in  definite  form,  for  in  practice  it  has 
been  in  existence  for  some  time,  and  wonderful  things  have|!'been 
done  in  the  direction  on  which  I  contemplate  it  working. ^  I- have 
no  pleasure  in  inventing  these  departments,  j^  They  all  entail  hard 
work  and  no  end  of  anxiety,  x  But  if  we  are  to  represent  thelovei 
of  God  to  men,  we  must  minister  to  all  the  wants  and  needs  of  the 
human  heart.',:  Nor  is  it  only  in  affairs  of  the  heart  that  this'Advice 
Buredu  will  be  of  service.  •  It  will  be  quite  as  useful..in  affairs  of 
the  head. -^  As  I  conceive  it,  the  Advice  Bureau  will  bel 

.THE    POOR    MAN'S    LAWYER"  AND    THE    POOR.  MAN*S'  TRIBUNE.? 

/ 

There  are  no  means  in  London,  so  far  as  my  knowledge  goes,  by 
which  the  poor  and  needy  can  obtain  an^  legal  assistance  in  the 
varied  oppressions  and  difficulties  from  which  they  must,  in  conse-' 
quence  of  their  poverty  and  associations,  be  continually  suffering. 

While  the  "  well-to-do"  classes  can  fall  back  upon  skilful  friends 
for  direction,  or  avail  themselves  of  the  learning  and  e^cperience  of  the 
legal  profession,  the  poor  man  has  literally  no  one  qualified  to  cibunsel 
him  oni^such^atters..    Jjii^ascs  iOf^icluiess^e^cah^^gly'^tQjIthfi 


1 


A   POPULAR   COURT    OF   ARBITRATION. 


221 


■■■'  y*-.^- 


t".  that- has 
lling  those 
sins'^one'to 
nfcssionbf 
before£the 
)cen  bneof 
as -wbh  its 
r  converts,' 
andition  of 
is  not  ini-. 
i  mi  nary  to 
iiselfr  It  is 
needs  and 
meeting  us 

• 

in,,Tnisery 
ith  f  a ,  man 
■sense  and 
ders  which 

propose  to 
:tice  it  has 
have:'been 
;.^  I- have 
entail  hard 
t  the -love: 
eds  of  the 
his  Advice 
1  affairs  of 


BUNE.7 

e  goes,  by 
incc  in  the 

in  conse-: 
ffering. 

ful  friends 
ince.of  the 

totJbunsel 
gl^'^taiithfi 


parish  doctor  or  the  great  hospitnt,  and  receive  nn  odd  word  or  two 
of  advice,  with  a  bottle  of  physic  which  may  or  m.iy  not ,  beVof 
service,  liut  if  his  circumstances  arc  sick,  out  of  order,  in  danger  of 
carrying  him  to  utter  destitution,  or  to  prison,  or  to  the  Union,  he 
has  no  one  to  appeal  to  who  has  the  willingness  or  the  ability  to  help 
him. 

Now,  \vc  want  to  create  a  Court  of  Counsel  or  Appeal,  to  which 
anyone  sufiering  from  imposition  having  to  do  with  person,  liberty. 
or  property,  or  anything  else  of  sufficient  importance,  can  apply,  and 
obtain  not  only  advice,  but  practical  assistance. 

Among  others  for  whom  this  Court  would  be  devised  is  the 
hl'.amefully-ncglccted  class  of  Widows,'  of  whom  in  the  East 
o'i  London  there  are  6,ooo,  mostly  in  very  destitute  circumstances, 
I.'i  the  whole  of  London  there  caiinot  be  less  than  20,ooo,  and 
in  England  "and  Wales  it  is  estimated  there  are  100,000,  fifty 
ti'.ousand  of  whom  are  probably  poor  and  friendless. 

The  treatment  of  these  poor  people  by  the  nation  is  a  crying 
>uan^dal.  Take  the  case  of  the  average  widow,  even  when  left  in 
comfoi  table  circumstances.  She  will  often  be  launched  into  a  sea  of 
n;:;rpleAity,  although  able  to  avail  herself  of  the  best  advice.  But 
Ihink  of  the  multitudes  of  poor  women,  who,  when  they  close 
their  husbands'  eyes,  lose  the  only  friend  who  knows  anything 
about  their  circumstances.  There  may  be  a  trifle  of  money  or  a 
struggling  business  or  a  little  income  connected  with  property  or 
Kome  other  possession,  all  needing  immediate  attention,  and  that 
of  a  skilful  sort,  in  order  to  enable  the  poor  creature  to  weather 
ihe  storm  and  avoid  the  vortex  of  utter  destitution. 

All  we  have  said  applies  equally  to  orphans  and  friendless 
people  generally.  Nothing,  however,  short  of  a  national  institu- 
tion could  meet  the  necessities  of  all  such  cases.  But  we  can  do 
something,  and  in  matters  already  referredf  to,  such  as  involve 
loss  of  property,  malicious  prosecution,  criminal  and  otherwise,  we 
can  render  substantial  assistance. 

In  carrying  out  this  purpose  it  will  be  no  part  of  our  plan  to 
encourage  legal  proceedings  in  others,  or  to  have  recourse  to 
them  ourselves.  All  resort  to  law  would  be  avoided  either  in 
counsel  or  practice,  unless  absolutely  necessary.  But  where 
manifest  injustice  and  wrong  are  perpetrated,  and  every  other 
method  of  obtaining  reparation  fails,  we  shall  avail  ourselves  oC 
the  assistance  the  Law  affords. 


si   ! 


ill'!.: 


'in     ! 


U- 


t 


r 


y<.'\ 


/222 


THE    POOR    MAN'S   LAWYER. 


E!   I. 


Oiir  great  hopc'^of  usefulness,  however,  in  this  Department  lies 
in  prevention.  Tlie  knowledge  that  the  oppressed  poor  have  in  us  a 
friend  able  to  apeak  for  them  will  often  prevent  the  injustice  which 
cowardly  and  avaricious  persons  might  oth.crwisc.  inflict,  and  the 
same  considerations  may  induce  them  to  accord  without  compulsion 
t.b.e  right  of  the  weak  and  friendless. 

)|^lso  calculate  upon  a  wide  sphere  of  usefulness  in  the  direction 
of  friendly  arbitration  and  intervention.  There  will  be  at  least  one 
disinterested  tribunal,  however  humble,  to  which  business,  domestic, 
or  any  other  questions  of  a  contentious  and  litigious  nature  can  be 
referred  without  involving  any  serious  .Dsts, 
J  The  following  inciden-ts  have  been  gathered  from  operations  already 
(Undertaken  in  this  direction,  and  will  explain  and  illustrate  the  kind 
"of  work  we  contemplate,  and  some  of  the  benefits  that  may  be 
pxpected  to  follow  from  it. 

About  four  years  ago  a  young  and  delicate  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  pilot,  came 
to  us  in  great  distress.  Her  story  was  that  of  thousands  of  others.  She  had 
been  bctrpycd  by  a  man  in  a  good  position  in  the  West  End,  and  was  now  the 
mother  of  an  infant  child 

Just  befpre  her  confinement  her  seducer  had  taken  her  to  nis  solicitors  and 
made  her  sign  and  swear  an  affidavit  to  tiie  effect  that  he  was  not  the  father  of 
the  then  expected  child.'-  Upon  this  he  gave  her  a  few  pounds  in  settlement  of 
all  claim'sx^jpon  him.  ?rThe  poor  thing  was  in,  great  poverty  and  distress. 
Through  our  solicitors,' we  immediately  opened  communications  with  the  man, 
and  after  negotiations,  he,  to  avoid  further  proceedings,  was  compelled  to  secure 
by  a  deed  a  proper  allowance  to  his  unfortunate  victim  for  the  maintenance  of 
her  child. 

SHADOWED  AND  CAUGHT. 

A was  induced  to  leave  a  comfortable  home  to  oecome  the  governess  of 

the  motherless  children  of  Mr.  G ,  whom  she  found  to  be  a  kind  and  con- 
siderate employer.  After  she  had  been  in  his  service  some  little  time  he  pro- 
posed that  she  should  take  a  trip  to  London.  To  this  she  very  gladly 
consented,  all  the  more  so  when  he  offered  to  take  her  himself  to  a  good 
appointment  he  had  secured  for  her.  In  London  he  seduced  her,  and  kept  her 
as  his  mistress  until,  tired  of  her,  he  told  her  to  go  and  do  as  "  other  women 
did." 

Instead  of  descending  to  this  infamy,  she  procured  work,  and  so  supported 
herself  and  child  in  some  degree  of  comfort,  when  he  sought  her  out  and  again 
dragged  her  down.  -Another  child  was  born,  and  a  second  time  he  threw  her 
up  and  left  her  Jg  starve.    It  was  then.she  applied  to  our  people.  '  We  hunted 


DEFENCE    OF   THE    DEFENCELESS. 


223 


nent  lies 
e  in  us  a 
ce  which 
and  the 
mpulsion 

direction 
least  one 
domestic, 
c  can  be 

is  already 
the  kind 
may   be 

pilot,  came 
.  She  had 
as  now  the 

licitors  and 
fie  father  of 
:ttlement  of 
id  distress, 
h  the  man, 
:d  to  secure 
ntenance  of 


;overness  of 
d  and  con- 
ime  he  pro- 
irery  gladly 
'  to  a  good 
nd  kept  her 
her  women 

>  supported 
It  and  again 
le  threw  her 
We  hunted 


u{}1the  man,  fulluwcd  him  to  the  country,  threatened  him  with  public  exposure, 
and  forced  from  him  the  payment  to  his  victim  of  £(30  down,  an  allowance  oi 
J[^\  a  week,  and  an  Insurance  Policy  on  his  life  for  j^4So  in  her  favour. 

£60   FROM   ITALY. 

C.  was  seduced  by  a  young  Italian  of  good  position  in  society,  who  promised 
to  marry  her,  but  a  short  time  before  the  day  fixed  for  the  ceremony  he  told  her 
urgent  business  called  him  abroad.  He  assured  her  he  would  return  in  two 
years  and  make  her  his  vife.  He  wrote  occasionally,  and  at  last  broke  her 
b'^art  by  sending  the  news  of  his  marriage  to  another,  adding  insult  to  injury  by 
suggesting  that  she  should  come  and  live  with  his  wife  as  her  maid,  offering  at 
the  same  time  to  pay  for  the  maintenance  of  the  child  till  it  was  old  enough  to 
be  placed  in  charge  of  the  captain  of  one  of  the  vessels  belonging  to  his  firm. 

None  of  these  promises  were  fulfilled,  and  C,  with  her  mother's  assistance, 
for  a  time  managed  to  support  herself  and  child ;  but  the  mother,  worn  out  by 
age  and  trouble,  could  help  her  no  longer,  and  the  poor  girl  was  driven  to 
despair.  Her  case  was  brought  before  us,  and  we  at  once  set  to  work  to  assist 
her..  The  Consul  of  the  town  where  the  seducer  lived  in  style  was  communicated 
with.  Approaches  were  made  to  the  young  man's  father,  who,  to  save  the  dis- 
honour that  would  follow  exposure,  paid  over  £(yo.  This  helps  to  maintain  the 
child  ;  and  the  girl  is  in  domestic  service  and  doing  well. 

THE   HIRE   SYSTEM. 

"  The  most  cruel  wrongs  are  frequently  inflicted  on  the  very  poorest 
persons,  in  connection  with  this  method  of  obtaining  Furniture, 
Sewing  Machines,  Mangles,  or.oiher  articles.  Caught  by  the  lure  of 
misleading  advertisements,  the  poor  are  induced  to  purchase  articles 
to.  be  paid  for  by  weekly  or  monthi}'  instalments.  They  struggle 
through  half  the  amount  perhaps,  at  all  manner  of  sacrifice,  when 
some  delay  in  the  payment  is  made  the  occasion  not  only  for  seizing 
the  goods,  which  they  have  come  to  regard  as  their  own,  and  on 
which  their  very  existence  depends,  but  by  availing  themselves  of 
some  technical  clause  in  the  agreement,  for  robbing  them  in  addition. 
In  such  circumstances  the  poor  things,  being  utterly  friendless,  have 
to  submit  to  these  infamous  extortions  without  remedy.  Our  Bureau, 
will  be  open  itoi  all  such.  • 

•  -■  ■;n'VA**'.'''  !.-'• '..     1  ■     'A 

TALLYMEN,    MONEY   LENDERS,  "AND   BILLS-OF-SALEMONGERS. » 

Here  again  we  have  a  class  who  prey  upon  the  poverty  of  the 

people,  inducing  them  to  purchase  things  for  which  they  have  oftett 

no  immediate  use — anyway  for  which  there  is  no  real  necessity — by 

all  manner. of  .speciQws^  promises  -as.  to ^eas^terms  of  repayment 

8 


I.  I 


!i.l 


;  'i 


: , 


.''1: 


V 


in 


POOR  •'MAN'S* CAWYER.' 


fhaving'got.thcir 'dupes  into;  Ihcir  power  they  drag  them 
cjown"^  to  misery,  and  very  often  iflter  tcitiporal  ruin;  once  in  their 
net  escape  is  exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible.  We  propose 
to  help  the  poor  victims  by  this  Scheme,  as  far  as  possible. 

'Our  Buredu,  we  expect  will  be  of  immense  service  to  Clergymen, 
•Ministers  of  all  denominations,'*  District  Visitors,  Missionaries,  and 
others  who^frjfily  mix  among  the  poor,  seeing  that  they  must  bo 
frfequently  appealed  to  for  legal  a'^vice,  which  they  are  quite  unable 
t(T  give, /and  equally  at  a  loss  to  obtain.  We  shall  always  be  ver)- 
^glad  to'ffssist  such.'*'" 

THE  DEFENCE  OF  UNDEFENDED  PERSONS. 

/rTfic  conviction  is  gradually  fixing  itself  upon  the  public  mind  that 
1  not  inconsiderable  number  of  innocent  persons  are  from  time  to 
time  convicted  of  jcrimcv  and  offences,  the  reason  for  which  often  is 
the  mere  inability  to  secure  an  efficierit  defence.  Although  there  arc 
several  societies  in  London  and  the  country  dealing  with  the  criminal 
ptasses,  and  more  particularly  with  discharged  prisoners,  yet  there 
Woes  not  appear  to  be  one  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  unconvicted 
prisoners.    This  work  we  propose  boldly  to  take  up. 

By  this  and  many  other  ways  we  shall  help  those  charged  with 
criminal  offences,  who,  on  a  most  careful  enquiry,  might  reasonably 
be  supposed  to  be  innocent,  but  who,  through  want  of  means,  arc 
unable  to  obtain  the  legal  assistance,  and  produce  the  evidence 
'necessary  for  an  efficient  defence. 

We  shall  not  pretend  authoritatively  to  judge  as  to  who  is  innocent 
or  who  is  guilty,  but  if  after  full  explanation  and  enquiry  the  person 
charged  may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  be  innocent,  and  is  not  in  a 
position  to  defend  himself,  then  we  should  feel  free  to  advise  such  a 
case,  hoping  thereby  to  save  such  person  and  his  family  and  friends 
from  much  misery,  and  possibly  from  utter  ruin. 

.Mr.  Justice  Field  recently  remarked  : — 

.."For  a  man  to  assist  another  man  who  was  vender  a  criminal  charge  was  a 
highly  laudable  and  praiseworthy  act,  '  If  a  man  was  without  friends,  and  an 
Englishman  came  forward  and  legitimately,  and  for  the  purpose  of  honestly 
assisting  :him  with  means  to  put  before  the  Court  his  case,  that  was  a  highly 
laudable  and  praiseworthy  act,  and  he  should  be  the  last  man  in  the  country  to 
complain  of  any  man  for  so  doing." 

/These  remarks  are '  endorsed  by  most  Judges  and  Magistrates, 
tind^ur^ Advice^ Bureau  will  give  practical  effect^ to  them./ 


m 


I    ' 


drag  them 
ice  in  their 
Ve  propose 
le. 

Clergymen, 
maries,  and 
ey  must  bo 
lulte  unabk 
lys  be  ver}! 


ic  mind  that 
rom  time  to 
liich  often  is 
gh  there  arc 
the  criminal 
rs,  yet  there 
unconvicted 

harged  with 

t  reasonably 

f  means,  are 

le  evidence 

0  is  innocent 
f  the  person 

1  is  not  in  a 
dvlse  such  a 

and  friends 


charge  was  a 
iends,  and  an 
le  of  honestly 
t  was  a  highly 
the  country  to 

Magistrates,] 


/ADVICE.  BUREAU^IN    CRIMINAL,  CHARGES?  T225 


Jlre^t^^cry 'TiT[se'-an^attem'pt"^villVtre""<4t1ade^^^  not   only  ;the 

outward  Teformaiion,  but  thc-iactuakrcgeneratlon  'of  all'Whom  we 
assist.''^5pccial-attcnti6n,as  has  been^escribed  under  theaUilSrimitial 
Kefoi'm; -Department,"  will*  be  paid  to,  first  offenders. 
:.  VWe.  shall  endeavour  also  toassist,,"as  faras  we  have''aBTHty,"^tKeJ 
Wives  V  and  .Children  'of  persons  whorVare  'undergoing,  sentences; 
by  endeavouring  to  "^obtain "  for .  them^  iemployment,  or  otherwise 
rendering  them  help.'  Hundreds  of  this  class  fall  into  the  deepest 
distress  and  demoralisation  through  want  of  friendly  aid  in  the 
forlorn  circumstances  in  which  ^'thcy  find  themselves  on  the  con- 
viction of  relatives  on  whom  they  have  been  dependent  for  a  liveli- 
hood, or  for  protection  and  direction  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life.^ 

This  Department  will  also  be  responsible  for  gathering  intelligence,' 
spreading  information,  and  the  general  prosecution  of  such  measures 
as  are  likely  to  lead  to  the  much-needed  bcneficialchanges  in.our 
Prison  Management.;  In  short'  it  will  seek  to  become  the  true'^friend 
and  saviour  of  the 'Criminal  Classes  in  general,  and  in  doing  so 
we  shall,  desire  to 'act  in  harmony  with  the  societies  at*  present  in 
existence,  '  who  .may  ^  be  '{^  seeking  for  objects  kindred'  to  the 
Advice  Bureau. 

We  pen  the  following  list  to  give  some  idea  of  the  topics  on  which 
the  Advice  Bureau  may  be  consulted  : — 

Children,  Custody  of  ^      .  Empliyers  Liability  Act 
Compensationfor  Injuries  Executors,  Duties  of 
„       ..for  Accident  i 

„       *^for  Defamation     Factory  Act,  Breach  of 
I,      'for  .,  Loss.,  of    Frau^,_^ttempted 
jEm^loy- 

iment,/  ':&Cy   jpdtodwill.  Sale  ot, 
&ci.  CruarantcQ,  ."Forfeited 

.Confiscaiidn  by  Landlol^s^ 
Contracts,  Breach  of^        ;Heit--at-Law> 
Copyright,  Infringement^ ;  Husbands    and   Wives, 


Accidents,  dlaim  for 
Administration  of  Estates 
Adulteration  of  Food  and 
j  -  Dnigs4 

Agency,  Questions  of 
Agreements,  Disputed 
Affiliation  Cases 
Animals,  Cruelty  to 
Arrest,  AVltongfuI 
Assault 


BafiTtruptcies 
Billi^f  Exchange 
Billi^JSale 
Bonds,  Forfeited^ 
Breach  of  Promise 

Childreq,  Cru^t^oi 


Vof 
CoantyjGpurt  Cases 

Oebts>  .^ 

Distress,  IllegaV 
Divorce 
Ejectment  Cases 


^Disputes. ofj 

Imprisonment,  False,- 
Infnts,  Custody  of/ 
In  I  Stacy,  Cases  p^ 

Judgim:nt,Si|Tm^ses,i 


!■'!- 


\i. 


r'l 


-ir.^ 


226 


THE    POOR   MAN'S   LAWYER' 


Lundlord      and 

Cases 
Leases,        Lapses 

Koiu'wals  of 
Lt'pafies.  1  disputed 
Libel  Cases 
Licences 


SlitMilVs 

Smvlics  Kslreateil 

J'artnrrsliip,  Tlic  Law  o\ 

Ki'onts,  KccistratlDMand     Tenancies,  Dispntcd 


Tenant     Nuisances,  Alie;^«.<l 
and 


Infrino;cnient  uf 
Pawnbrokers   and   their 

Pledges 
Polirc  Cases 
Marriage    Law,    Question     Probate 

of  llie 
Masters'     and      Servants'     Kates  and  Taxes 
Acts 


Trade    Marks,    Jnfring(| 

in<nt  of 
Trespass,  Cases  of 
Trusters  and  Trusts 


Seduction,  Cas(>s  of 
Servants'  Wronglul  Dis- 
rnissal 


Wages  Kept  liack 
Wills,      Disputed      an^ 

Unproved 
Women,  Cruelty  to 
Workmen,  Grievances  oi 

&c.,  &c 


Reversionary  Interests 
Meeting,  Kight  of  I'ublic 
Mortgages 
Neglife'.'ucc,  Alleged 
J4cxt  of  Kin  Wanted; 

The  Advice  Bureau  will  tlieiefore  be,  first  of  all,  a  place  where 
men  and  women  in  trouble  can  come  when  they  please  to  com* 
municate  in  confidence  the  cause  of  their  anxiety,  with  a  certainty 
that  they  will  receive  a  sympathetic  hearing  and  the  best  advice. 

Secondly,  it  will  be  a  Poor  Man's  Lawyer,  giving  the  best  legal 
counsel  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued  in  the  various  circumstances 
\yith  which  the  poor  find  themselves  confronted. 

-Thirdly,  it  will  act  as  a  Poor  Man's  Tribune,  ?nd  will  undertake 
the  defence  of  friendless  prisoners  supposed  to  be  innocent,  cogcther 
(Witli  the  resistance  of  illegal  extortions,  and  the  prosecution  of 
pffendets  who  refuse  legal  satisfaction  fc  the  wrongs  they  have 
committed. 

Fourthly,  it  will  act  wherever  it  is  called  upon  as  a  Court  of 
Arbitration  between  litigants,  where  the  decision  will  be  according 
to  equity,  and  the  costs  cut  down  to  t!ie  lowest  possible  figure. 

Such  a  Department  cannot  be  improvised  ;  but  it  is  already  ir.  A 
fair^way^of  developtnent^  andit  jcan  bardly  feil  to  4o  great  good. 


ipiitf'd 
Infring^ 

?s  of 
Ir  lists 

iack 

itcd      an() 

Itv  to 


icvancc.s  oi 

-  'J 


ice  wlicrc 
to  com* 
certainty 
vice. 

best  legal 
mstanres 

mdertake 

together 

cution   of 

ley   have 

Court  of 

according 

irc. 

.ady  ir.  a 

;ood. 


Section  j.^OUR  INTELLIGENCE  DEPARTMENT. 

An  indispensable  adjunct  of  this  Scheme  will  be  the  institution  of 
what  may  be  called  an  Intelligence  Department  at  Headquarters, 
Power,  it  has  been  said,  belongs  to  the  best  informed,  and  if  we  are 
cftecti'ally  to  deal  with  the  forces  of  social  evil,  we  must  have  ready, 
at  our  fingers' ends  the  accumulated  experience  and  information  of 
the  whole  world  on  this  subject. '  The  collection  of  facts  and- the 
systematic  record  of  them  would  be  invaluable,  rendering  the  results 
of  the  experiments  of  previous  cenerations  available  for  the  informa-] 
tion  of  our  own. 

At  the  present  there  is  no  central  institution,  either  governmierital 
or  otherwise,  in  this  country  or  any  other,  which  charges  itself^with; 
the  duty  of  collecting  and  collating  the  ideas  and  conclusionst'on 
Social  Economy,  eo  far  as  they  are  lilely  to  help  the  solution  of  the' 
problem  we  have  in  hand.  The  Britisli  Home  Office  has  only.begunl 
to  index  its  own  papers.  The  Local  Government  Board  is  in  a1 
similar  condition,  and,  although  each  particular  '  Blue  Book  may ibe] 
admirably  indexed,  there  is  no  classified  index  of  the  whole  series^ 
If  this  is  the  case  with  the  Government,  it  is  not  likely  that  the ,ifth\ir? 
!  lerable  private  organisations  which  are  pecking  here  and  there  atfthe 
social  question  should  possess  any  systematised  method  for  the  purpose' 


of  comparing  notes  and  storing  information.  This,  Intelligence  Depart- 


ment, which  I  propose  to  found  on  a  small  scale  at  first,  will  have  in 
it  the  germ  of  vast  extension  which  will,  if  adequately:  supported,' 
become  a  kind  of  University,  in  which  the  accumulated  experiences] 
of  the  human  race  will  be  massed,  digested,  and  rendered:  available' 
t-)  the  humblest  toiler  in  the  great  work  of  social  reformrt^At  the 
present  moment,  who  is  there  that  can  produce  in  any ^^of;  our 
museums  and  universities  as  much  as  a  classified  index  of >publica- 
tions  relating  to  one  of  the  many  heads,  under  which  I  have, dealt 
with  this  subject  ?  .^  Who  is  there  among  all  our.. wise  men*and "social 
reformers  that  can  send  me  a,  list  of  all  the"  best  tracts "^'iiporir^sayj 
the  establishment  of  agricultural  colonies  or  the^uexperim'PnltSjthat 
have  been  made  in  dealing  with  inebriates ;  or  the  beg^^^au.  for!,tha 
construction  of  .a  working  man's  cottage? 


L: 


t' 


■i 


228 


OUR  INTELLIGENCE  DEPARTMENT/, 


fc'-^J^-f 


.l''or  tiiQ  (Icvclopmcnt  of  this  Scheme  1  want  an  OlTuc  to  bcfft  with, 
iir\\1iicli,*iiiulcr  tlic  head  of  the  varied  subjects  treated  of -hr this 
volume,  I  niay  liavc  arranged  the  coiulcnscd  essence  of  all  the  best 
books  tiiat  have  been  writte?),  and  the  names  and  addresses  of  tliose 
whose  opinions  are  worth  having  upon  them,  together  with  a  note  of 
what  tliose  opinions  are,  and  the  results  of  experiments  which  have 
been  made  in  relation  to  them.  I  want  to  establish  a  system  which 
will  enable  me  to  use,  not  only  the  eyes  and  hands  of  Salvation 
onicersj  but  of  sympathetic  friends  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  for 
purposes  of  noticing  and  reporting  at  once  every  social  experiment 
of  importance,  any  words  of  wisdom  on  the  social  question,  whether 
it  may  be  the  breeding  of  rabbits,  the  organisation  of  an  cmigraticii 
service,  the  best  method  of  conducting  a  Cottage  Farm,  or  the 
best  way  of  rooking  potatoes.  There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  range 
of  our'operations  upon  which  we  should  not  be  accumulating  and 
recording  the  results  of  human  experience.  What  1  want  is  to  get 
the  essence  of  wisdom  which  the  wisest  have  gathered  from  the 
widest  experience,  rendered  instantly  available  for  the  humblest 
worker  in  the  Salvation  Factory  or  Farm  Colony,  and  for  any  o\hr.i 
toiler  in  similar  fields  of  social  progress. 

It  can  be  done,  and  in  the  service  of  the  people  it  ought  to  be  done. 
I  look  for  helpers  in  this  department  a'mong  those  who  hitherto 
may  not  have  cared  for  the  Salvation  Army, '  ut  who  in  the  seclusion 
of  their  studies  and  libraries  will  assist  in  the  compiling  of  this 
great  Index  of  Sociological  Experiments,  and  who  would  be  willing, 
in  this  form,  to  help  in  this  Scheme,  as  Associates,  for  the  ameliora- 
ting of  the  condition  of  the  people,  if  in  nothing  else  than  in  usirj 
their  eyes  and  ears,  and  giving  me  the  benefit  of  their  brains  as- to 
where  know  w-dgc  lies,  and  how  it  can  best  be  utilised.  I  propose  to 
make  a  beginning  by  putting  two  capable  men  and  a  boy  in  an 
oflice,  with  in.structions  to  cut  out,  prescive,  and  verify  all  con- 
temporary records  in  the  daily  and  weekly  press  that  have  a  bearing 
upon  any  branch  of  our  departments.  Round  tligsc  two  men  and  a 
boy*,  will  grow  up,  I  confidently  believe,  a  vast  ojganisation  of 
2C^alous  unpaid  workers,  who  will  co-operate  in  makingj^our.  Inte.- 
J^gencc  Department  a  great  storehouse  of  informatiou^fea  universal 
library  where  any  man  may  learn  what  is  the  sum  of  human  know- 
ledge upon  any  branch  of  the  subject  which  we  have  taken  iii  hand. 


ill  with, 
'•ill.  this 
Ihc  best 
af  those 
I  note  of 
ch  have 
in  which 
Jalvation 
orld,  for 
pcrimciit 
whether 
lif^raticii 
,  or   the 
)lc  range 
ting  and 
is  to  gel 
from  the 
liumblest 
my  o^hcr 

be  done, 
hitherto 
seclusion 
of  this 
wiUing, 
nnchora- 
in  usirj 
is  as,  to 
oposc  to 
)y  in  an 
all  con- 
bearing 
eit  and  a 
ation    of 
ir,  Inte.- 
inivcrsal 
know- 
li  liaud. 


Section  6.— CO-OPERATION  IN  GENERAL. 

If  anyone  asked  me  to  state  hi  one  word  what  seemed  likely  to  be 
the  key  of  the  solution  of  the  Social  Problem  I  should  answer  un- 
hesitatingly Co-operation.  It  being. always  understood  that  it  is  Co- 
operation conducted  on  righteous  principles,  and  for  wise  and 
benevolent  ends  ;  otherwise  Association  cannot  be  expected  to  bear 
t»ny  more  profitable  fruit  than  Individualism.  Co-operation  is  applied 
association — association  for  the  purpose  of  production  and  distribu- 
tion.^ Co-operation  implies  the  voluntary  combination  of  individuals 
♦o  -  attaining  an  object  by  mutual  help,  mutual  counsel,  and  mutual 
u<_i...^5  .There  is  a  great  deal  of  idle  talk  in  the  world  just  now 
about  capital,  as  if  capital  were  the  enemy  of  labour.  ;  It  is  quite 
true  that  there  are  capitalists  not  a  few  who  may  be  regarded  ad  the 
enemies,  not  only  of  labour,  but  of  the  human  race;  tut  capital 
itself,  so  far  from  being  a  natural  enemy  of  labour,  is  the  great  object 
which  the  labourer  has  constantly ,  in  view.  ,  However  much  an 
agitator  may  denounce  capital,  his  one  great  grievance  is  that  he  has 
not  enough  of  it  for  himself.^?  Capital,  therefore,  is  not  an  evil  in 
itself;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  gobd— so  good  that  one  of  the  great  aims 
of. the  social  reformer,  ought'to  be  to  facilitate  its 'widest  possible 
distribution  ancng  his  fcllovy-men.i^It.is  the  cc»  ;jcstion  of  capital 
thati^is  ev''  anc  the  labours  question  will  never  be  finally  solved 
until  even      r  vu'-er  is  his  own  capitalist. 

AH  this  is  It'  enough,  and  has  been  said  a  thousand  times  already, 
but,  unfortunately,  with  the  saying  of  it  the  matter  ends. ;. Co-opera- 
tion has.  been  brought  into  practice  in  relation"  to  distribution  with 
considerable  success,  ^Mt  co-operation,'as  a  means  of  production,  has 
not  achieved  anything  like  the  success  that  was  anticipated,  c' Again 
andagaitu^ertterprises  have  been  begun  on  co-operative  pnnciplcs 
which  b'idffair,  in""the  opinion  of  the  vjromoters,  to  succeed  :  but  after 
one,'  two.  hree,  br  ten  years,  the  enterprise  which  was  started  with 
such  hikJ:  [  i>pe\Jiiis  dwindled  away  into  either  total  or  partinl  failure. 


!!'' 


i 


■.  i 


230 


CO^DPERATION    IN    GENERAL. 


At  present,  many  co-operative  unckrt.ikiiigs  arc  nothing  more  .or  less 
than  huge  Joint  Stock  Limited  Liahility  conccrns;^  shares  of  which 
are  held  largely  by  working  people,  but  not  necessarily,  and  some- 
times not  at  all  by  those  who  are  actually  employed  in  the  so-called 
co-operative  business.  Now,  why  is  this?  Why  do  co-operative 
firms,  co-operative  factories,  and  co-operative  Utopias  so  very  often 
come  to  grief  ?  I  believe  the- cause  is  an  open  secret,  and  can  be 
discerned  by  anyone  who  will  look  at  the  subject  with  an  open  eye. 

The  success  of  industrial  concerns  is  largely  a  question  of  manage- 
ment. ■  Management  signifies  government,  and  government  implies 
authority,  and  authority  is  the  last  thing  which  co-operators  of  the 
Utopian  order  are  willing  to  recognise  as  an  element  essential  to  the 
success  of  their  Schemes.  'I'lie  co-operative  institution  which  is 
governed  on  Parliamentaiy  principles,  with  unlimited  right  of 
debate  and  right  of  obstru  k  i,  will  never  be  able  to  compete 
successfully     with    institution^,  ich    are    directed    by    a    single 

brain  wielding  the  united  resoui^es  of  a  disciplined  and  obedient 
army  of  workers.  Hence,  to  make  co-operation  a  success  you 
must  superadd  to  the  principle  of  consent  the  principle  of 
authority  ;  you  must  invest  in  those  to  whom  you  entrust  the  manage- 
ment of  your  co-operative  establishment  the  same  liberty  of  action 
that  is  possessed  by  the  owricr  of  works  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street.  There  is  no  delusion  more  common  among  men  than  the 
belief  that  liberty,  which  is  a  good  thing  in  itscl'',  is  so  good  as  to 
enable  those  who  possess  it  to  dispense  with  all  other  good  things- 
But  as  no  man  lives  by  bread  alone,  neither  can  nations  or  factories 
or  shipyards  exist  solely  upon  unlimited  freedom  to  have  their  own 
way.  In  co-operation  we  stand  pretty  much  where  the  French 
nation  stood  immediately  after  the  outburst  of  the  Revolution.  In 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  proclamation  of  the  rights  of  man,  and  the 
repudiation  of  the  rotten  and  effete  rc'iiinie  of  the  Bourbons,  the 
French  peasants  and  workmen  imagined  that  they  were  inaygurating 
the  n\illennium  when  they  scrawled  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity 
across  all  the  churches  in  every  city  of  France,  They  carried  their 
principles  of  freedom  and  license  to  the  logical,  ultimate,  and 
attempted  to  manage  their  army  on  Parliamentary  principles.  ■  It 
did  not  work  ;  their  undisciplined  levies  were  driven  back  ;  disorder 
reigned  in  the  Republican  camp  ;  and  the  French  Revolution  wuuld 
have  been  stifled  in  its  cradle  had  not  the  in.stinct  of- the  nation 
discerned  in  time  the  weak  point  in  its  armour.     Mcnaced^by,.foi:ci^n 


"^ 


^'SUCCESS    IN    CO-OPERATION: 


23^. 


•^^r, 


""T 


)rc  .or  less 
of.  which 
md  some- 
so-called 
-operative 
very  often 
nd  can  be 
pen  eye. 
if  maiiage- 
nt  irhplics 
ors  of  the 
itial  to  the 
which  is 
right    of 
»   compete 
a    single 
I  obedient 
cccss  you 
inciple    of 
e  nianage- 
of  action 
de  of  the 
than  the 
Dod  as  to 
od  things- 
factories 
heir  own 
French 
ition.     In 
and  the 
bons,  the 
ygu  rating 
raternity 
ried  their 
late,   and 
iples.  •   It 
disorder 
on  would 
16"  nation 
ly^foccififn 


iw^rs^and  intestine  revolt,  the  Republic  established  ah<ir6ri.^discipline 
in  :its  .'army,  and  enforced  obedience  by  the^sunimary  process  of 
military  execution.  The  liberty  and  the  enthusiasm 'developed  by 
the  outburst  of  the  long  pent-up  revolutionary  forces -supplied  the 
motive  power,  but  it  was  the  discipline  of  the  revolutionary  armies, 
the  stern,  unbending  obedience  which  was  enforced  in  all  ranks  from 
the  highest  to  the  low  st,  which  created  for  Napoleon  the  admirable 
military  instrument  by  which  he  shattered  every  throne  in  Europe 
and  swept  in  triumph  from  Paris  to  Moscow. 

In  industrial  affairs  we  are  very  much  like  the  French  Republic 
before  it  teriipered  its  doctrine  of  the  rights  of  man  by  the  duty  of 
obedience  on  the  part  of  the"  soldier.  .  We  have  got  to  introduce  dis- 
cipline into  the  industrial  army,  we  have  to  superadd  the  principle  of 
authority  to  the  principle  of  co-operation,  and  so  to  enable  the 
v/orker  to  profit  to  the  full  by  the  increased  productiveness  of  the 
v/illing  labour  of  men  who  are  employed  in  their  own  workshops  and 
on  their  own  property.  There  is  no  need  to  clamour  for  great 
schemes  of  State  Socialism.  The  whole  thing  can  be  done  simply,- 
economically,  and  speedily  if  only  the  workers  will  practice  as  much 
self-denial  for  the  sake  of  establishing  themselves  as  capil;alists,  as 
the  Soldiers  of  the  Salvation  Army  practice  every  year  in  Self  Denial 
Week.  What  is  the  sense  of  never  making  a  levy  except  during  a 
strike?  Instead  of  calling  for  a  shillinp-,  or  two  shillings,  a  week  in- 
order  to  maintain  men  who  are  starving  in  idleness  because  of  a  dis-; 
pute  with  their  masters,  why  should  there  not  be  a  levy  kept  up  for; 
weeks  or  months,  by  the  workers,  for  the  purpose  of  setting  them- 
selves up  in  business  as  masters  ?  There  would  then  be  no  longer 
a  capitalist  owner  face  to  face  with  the  masses  of  the  proletariat,  but 
.all  the  means  of  production,  the  plant,  and  all  the  accumulated  re- 
sources, of  capital  would  really  be  at  the  disposal  of  labour.  This 
will  never  be  done,  however,  as  long  as  co-operative  experiments  are 
carried  on  in  the  present  archaic  fashion. 

Believing  in  co-operation  as  the  ultimate  solution,  if  to  co-opera- 
tion you  can  add  subordination,  I  am  disposed  to  attempt  some- 
thing in  this  direction  in  my  new  Social  Scheme.  I  shall  endeavour 
to  start  a  Co-operative  Farm  qn  the  principles  of  Ralahine,  and  base 
ihe  whole  of  my  Farm  Colony  on  a  Co-operative  foundation.]  ^ 

In  starting  this  little  Co-operative  Commonwealth,  I  am  reminded 
byithose  who  are  always  at  a  man's  elbow  to  fill  him  with  forebodings 
jf  JUiJo  ..lo.Q.k,^aUUie  -failuresj^which,  L have  just_r:fefeiTed.t9^ jyhich, 


1: 


;  Hi 


■Jl 


:> 


232 


CO-OPERATION    IN    GENERAL". 


make  up  the  history  of  the  attempt  to  realise  ideal  commonwealths  in 
this  practical  workaday  world.  S'4. Now,  I  have  read  the  history;fof  the 
many  attempts  at  co-operation"  that  have  been  made  to  form  commun- 
istic settlements  in  the  United  States,  and  am  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  sorrowful  fate  with  which  nearly  all  have  been  overtaken ;  but  the 
story  of  their  failures  docs  not  deter  mc  in  the  least,  for  I  regard 
them  as  nothing  more  than  warnings  to  avoid  certain  mistakes, 
beacons  to  illustrate  the  need  of  proceeding  on  a  different  tack. 
Broadly  speaking,  your  experimental  communities  fail  because  your 
Utopias  all  start  upon  the  system  of  equality  and  government  by 
vote  of  the  majority,  and,  as  a  nccesisary  and  unavoidable  con- 
sequence, your  Utopians  get  to  loggerheads,  and  Utopia  goes  to  smash. 
1  shall  avoid  that  rock.  The  Farm  Colony,  like  all  the  other 
departments  of  the  Scheme,  will  be  governed,  not  on  the  principle  of 
counting  noses,  but  on  the  exactly  opposite  principle  of  admitting 
no  noses  into  the  concern  that  arc  not  willing  to.be  guided  by  the 
directing  brain.'""  It  will  be  managed  on  principles  which  assert  that 
the  fittest' ought  to  rule,  anrl  it  will  provide  for  the  fittest  being 
selected,  and  having  got  them  at  the  top,  will  insist  on  universal 
and  unquestioning  obedience  from  those  at  the  bottom.  If  any- 
one does  not  like  to  work  for  his  rations  and  submit  to 
the  orders  of  his  superior  OfTicers  he  can  leave.  *'  There  is  no 
compulsion  on  him  to  stay.  The  world  is  wide,  and  outside  the 
confines  of  our  Colony  and  the  operations  of  our  Corps  my  authority 
does  not  extend.  But  judging  from  our  brief  experience  it  is  not 
from  revolt  against  authority  that  the  Scheme  is  destined  to  fail. 

There  cannot  be  a  greater  mistake  in  this  world  than  to  imagine 
that  men  object  lo  be  governed.  They  like  to  be  governed,  provided 
li  \t  the  governor  has  his  "head  screwed  on ,  right",  and 
that  he  is  prompt  to  hear  and  ready  to  sec  and  recognise  all  that 
is  vital  to  the  interests  of  the  commonwealth.^;:  So  far  from<  there 
being  an  innate  objection  on  the  part  of  mankind  to  being  governed^ 
the  instinct  to  obey  is  so  universal  that  even  when  governments  have 
gone  blind,  and  deaf,  and  paralytic,  rotten  with  corruption  and  hope- 
lessly behind  the  times,  they  still  contrive  to  live  on."  Against  a  capable 
Government  no  people  ever  rebel,  only  when  stupidit5^  and  incapacity, 
have  taken  possession  of  the  scat. of  power  do  insurrections  break 
out. 


nagine 

ovided 

and 

1  that 

there 

ernedy^ 

have 

hopc- 

pablc 


Section  7.— A  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

There  is  another  direction  in  which  something  ought  to  be  done 
to  restore  the  natural  advantages  enjoyed  by  every  rural  community 
which  have  been  destroyed  by  the  increasing  tendency  of  mankind 
to  come  together  in  huge  masses.  I  refer  to  that  which  is  after  all 
one  of  the  most  important  elements  in  every  human  life,  that  of 
marrying  and  giving  in  marriage.  In  the  natural  life  of  a  country 
village  all  the  lads  and  lasses  grow  up  together,  they  meet  together 
in  religious  associations,  in  daily  employments,  and  in  their  amuse- 
ments on  the  village  green.  They  have  learned  their  A,  B,  C  and  pot- 
hooks together,  and  when  the  time  comes  for  pairing  off  they  have  had 
excellent  opportunities  of  knowing*  the  qualities  and  the  defects  of 
those  whom. they  select  as  their  partners  in  life.  Everything  in  such 
a  community  lends  itself  naturally  to  the  indfSpensable  preliminaries 
of  love-making,  and  courtships,  which,  however' much  they  maybe 
laughed  at,  contribute  more  than  most  things  to  the^  happiness 
of  life.  But  in  a  great  city  all  this  is  destroyed.  In  London  at 
the  present  moment  how  many  hundreds,  nay  thousands,  of  young 
men  and  young  women,  who  are  living  in  lodgings,  are  practically 
without  any  opportunity  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  each  ^  other, 
or  of  any  one  of  the  other  sex  1  The  street  is  no  doUbf,  the  city 
substitute  for  the  village  green,  jind  what  a  substitute  it  is  4 

(t  has  been  bitterly  said  by  one  who  knew  well:  whatt-he  was 
talking  about,  "There  are  thousands'  of  young  men  to-day,  who 
have  no  right;  to  call  any  woman  by  her  Christian'  name,  except 
the  girls  they ;  meet '  plying  their" dreadful  trade ■.. in  'our,^ pliblic 
thoroughfares."J^  As  long  as  that  is  the'case.  vice  has^ari^etnoithous 
advantage  over,  virtue  ;  suchVan  cbnormal' social  arrangement  inter- 
dicts morality  and  places,  avast  premium  upon  prostitution]).  "We 
must  get  back  to  nature  if  we  have  to  cope  with  this  ghastly  ieyil) 


cope  „ _,  _.-.. 

There  ought  to  be  more  opportunities  aTorded  fdr.heajthyitiuman 
intercourse^between  .young .  men^  and  i^oyn^  «wi>mgii^orx£aiil^i2cifit3 


•1 


'234 


A"  MATRIMONIAL   BUftEAU.' 


rid  itself  of  a  great  responsibility  for  all  the  wrecks  of  manhood  an*d 
womanhood  with  which  our  streets  are  strewn,  unless  it  does  make 
some  attempt  to  bridge  this  hideous  chasm  which  ya\yns  between  the 
two  halves  of  humanity.  The  older  I  grow  the  more  absolutely  am 
I  opposed  to  anything  that  violates  the  fundamental  law  of  the  family. 
Humanity  is  composed  of  two  sexes,  and  woe  be  to  those  who 
attempt  to  separate  them  into  distinct  bodies,  making  of  each  half  one 
whole ! ;.  It  has  been  tried  in  monasteries  and  convents  with  but  poor 
success^'  yet  what  our  fervent  Protestants  do  not  seem  to  see  is 
that  we  are  reconstructing  a  similar  false  system  for  our  young 
people  without  the  safeguards  and  the  restraints  of  convent  walls 
or  the  sanctifying  influence  of  religious  conviction.  The  conditions 
of.  City,  life,  the  absence  of  the  enforced  companionship  of  the 
village*  and  small  town,  the  difficulty  of  young  people  finding 
harmless  opportunities  of  friendly  intercourse,  all.  tends  to  create 
classes^  of  celibates  who  are  not  chaste,  and  whose  irregular 
and  lawless  indulgence  of  a*  universal  instinct  is  one  of  the  most 
melancholy  features  of  the  ptiesent  state  of  society.  Nay,  so  generally 
is  this  recognised,  that  one  of  the  terms  by  which  one  of  the  con- 
sequences of  this  unnatural  state  of  things  is  popularly  known  is 
"  the  social  ,evil,"  as  if  all  other  social  evils  were  comparatively 
,un worthy  of  notice  in  comparijon  to  this. 

While  I  have  been  busily  occupied  in  working  out  my  Scneme  for 
ther  registration  of  labour,  it  has  occurred  to  me  more  than  once, 
wh)r^:couldi^not  something  like  the 'same  plan  be  adopted  in 
relation  $  to/  men  \  who  v  want  *  wives  .  and  women  v  who  want 
husbands  ?  ^:  Marriage  is  -•>  with  most '  people  :  largely  a  matter  of 
opportunity.-.?;  Many  a  man~  and  many  a  woman,  who  would,  if  they 
hadfcome 'together,  have  . formed  a  happy  household,  are  leading  at 
this? moment  miserable''^ and  'solitary  lives,  suflering  in  body  and  in 
soul,  irifconsequence*  of/' tlieir' exclusion  from  the  natural  state  of 
matrimony,  il  Of.  course,  the  registration  of  the  unmarried  who  wish 
to.-marry^;would.rbe|a.,matter:of/r  much  greater  delicacy  than  the 
registratioriTof  the.  joiners' T and  stone-masons  who  wish  to  obtain 
worltJm;But  the  thing  is  not  impossible.  ••  I  have  repeatedly  found 
in  myjvexperience^  that  many  a  man  and  many  a  woman  would  only 
be  ^oojglad  to  ha v'e^ a' friendly  hint  as  to  where  they,  might  prosecute 
theijiattehtions^  or. from  which  they  might  receive  proposals. 

.I^p^inection.with^such  an'  agency,  if  it  wei-e  established--^for  X  am 
lifitj^l^glDS  isk  uaiieriake  thb.  task^l  am  oihl^  .thrawihfiiLQuUa 


A    TRAINING    HOME   OF    HOUSEWIFERY.' 


235 


manhood  an'd 
i  it  does  make 
s  between  the 

absolutely  am 
V  of  the  family. 

to  those  who 
f  each  half  one 
with  but  poor 
2em  to  see  is 
or  our  young 
convent  walls 
fhe  conditions 
mship  of   the 
eople    finding 
nds  to  create 
ose    irregular 
:  of  the  most 
%  so  generally 
e  of  the  con- 
rly  known  is 
:omparatively 

'  Scneme  for 

than  once, 

adopted    in 

who    want 

matter   of 

ould,  if  they 

re  leading  at 

body  and  in 

ral  state  of 

id  who  wish 

'y  than  the 

5h  to  obtain 

tedly  found 

would  only 

It  prosecute 

lis; 

d-^for  1  am 
wioil^QULia' 


possible  suggestion  as  to  the  development  in  the  direction  of  meeting 
a  much  needed  want,  there  might  be  added  training  homes  forj 
matrimony.  My  heart  bleeds  for  many  a  young  couple  whom  I  see 
launching  out  into  the  sea  of  matrimony  with  no  housewifery 
experience.  The  young  girls  who  leave  our  public  elementary 
schools  and  go  out  into  factories  have  never  been  trained  to  honfe 
duties,  and  yet,  when  taken  to  wife,  are  unreasonably  expected  to 
fill  worthily  the  difficult  positions  of  the  head  of  a  household  and 
the  mother  of  a  family.  A  month  spent  before  marriage  in  a 
training  home  of  housewifery  would  conduce  much  more  to  the 
happiness  of  the  married  life  than  the  honeymoon  which 
immediately  follows  it. 

Especially  is  this  the  case  with  those  who  marry  to  go  abroad 
and  settle  in  a  distant  country.  I  often  marvel  when  I  think  of  the 
utter  helplessness  of  the  modern  woman,  compared  with  the  handi- 
ness  of  her  grandmother.  How  many  of  our  girls  can  even  bake  a 
a  loaf?  .  The  baker  has  killed  out  one  of  our  fundamental 
domestic  arts.  But  if  you  are  in  the  Backwoods  or  in  the  Prairie  or 
in  the  Bush,  no  baker's  cart  comes  round  every  morning  with  the 
new-made  bread,  and  I  have  often  thought  with  sorrow  of  the  kind 
of  stuff  which  this  poor  wife  must  serve  up  to  her  hungry  husband. 
As  it  is  with  baking,  so  it  is  with  washing,  with  milking,  with* 
spinning,  with  all  the  arts  and  sciences  of  the  household,  which 
were  formerly  taught,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  all  the  daughters 
who  were  born  in  the  world.  Talk  about  woman's  rights,  one  of 
,  the  first  of  woman's  rights  is  to  be  trained  to  her  trade,  to  be 
queen  of  her  household,  and  mother  of  her  children. 

Speaking  of  colonists  leads  me  to  the  suggestion  whether 
something  could  not  be  done  to  supply,  on  a  well-organised' 
system,  the  thousands  of  bachelor  miners  or  the  vast  host  of 
unmarried  males  who  are  struggling  with  the  wilder'-.t-'?  on  the 
outskirts  of  civilisation,  with  capable  wives  from  the  overplus 
of  marriageable  females  who  abound  in  our  great  towns.  Woman 
supplied  in  adequate  quantities,  is  the  great  moraliser  of  Society, 
but  woman  doled  out  as  she  is  in  the  Far  West  and  the 
Australian  bush,  in  the  proportion  of  one  woman  to  about  a  dozen 
men,  is  a  fertile  source  of  vice  and  crime.  Here  again  we  must 
get  back  to;  natur%  whose  fundamental  laws  our  social  arrangements 
have  rudely  set  on  one  side  with  consequences  which  as  usual  she  does 
(DPt.faiLto.  exa.ct .with„  remorseless  severity.  -^Xhere.  hayg; aLwaysJb^n] 


t3i 


K- 


236' 


A~  MATRIMONIAL    BUREAU^i^ 


born  into  the  world  and  continue  to  be  bom  boy^^'and  girlS"  in!  fairly 
equal  proportions,  but  withcolonising  and  soldiering  our  men  go  away, 
leaving  behind  them  a  continually  growing  surplus  of  marriageable 
but  unmarried  spinsters,  who  cannot  ^J^  spin, :  and  who  are  utterly 
unable- to  find  themselves  husbands.' r This  is  a  wide,  field  on"  the 
discussion  of  which  I  must  not  enter."!":  I  merely  indicate  it  as  one 
of  those  departments  in  which  an  intelligent  philanthropy  might 
find  a  great  sphere  for  its  endeavours;  but  it  would  be  better  not 
to  touch  it  at  all  than  to  deal  with  it  with  light-hearted  precipitancy 
and  without  due  consideration  of  all  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
connected  therewith. " :  Obstacles,  however,  exist  to  be  overcome  and 
converted  into  victories.  -  There  is  even  a  certain  fascination  about 
the, difficult  and  dangerous,  which  appeals  very  strongly  to  all  who 
know  that  it  is  the  apparently  insolvable  difficulty  which  contains 
within  ?,t3  bosom  the  key  to  the  problem  which  you  are  seeking  to 
solve. 


*^^ 


imt 


s^  in.  fairl3' 
n  go  away, 
irriageable 
e  utterly 
Id  t>n;the 
:  it  as  one 
Py  might 
>etter  not 
Jcipitancy 

(iangers 
come  and 
ion  about 

all  who 

contains 

-el;ing  to 


Section  8— WHITECHAPEI^BY-THE-SEA. 

In  considering  tne  various  means  by  which  some  substantial 
improvement  can  be  made  in  the  condition  of  the  toiling  masses, 
recreation  cannot  be  omitted.  I  have  repeatedly  had  forced 
upon  me  the  desirability  of  making  it  possible  for  them  to  spend 
a  few  hours  occasionally  by  the  seaside,  or  even  at  times  three  or 
four  days.  Notwithstanding  the  cheapened  rates  and  frequent 
excursions,  there  are  multitudes  of  the  poor  who,  year  in  and 
out,  never  get  beyond  the  crowded  city,  with  the  exception  of 
dragging  themselves  and  their  children  now  and  then  to  the  parks 
on  holidays  or  hot  summer  evenings.  The  majority,  especially 
the  inhabitants  of  the  East  of  London,  never  get  away  from 
the  sunless  alleys  and  grimy  st-reets  in  which  they  exist  from 
year  to  year.  It  is  true  that  a  few  here  and  there  of  the  adult 
population,  and  a  good  many  of  the  children,  have  a  sort 
of  annual  charity  excursion  to  Epping  Forest,  Hampton  Court,  or 
perhaps  to  the  sea.  But  it  is  only  the  minority.  The  vast  number, 
while  possessed  of  a  passionate  love  of  the  sea,  which  only  those 
who  have  mixed  with  them  can  conceive,  pass  their  whole  lives 
without  having  once  looked  over  its  blue  waters,  or  watched  its 
waves  breaking  at  their  feet. 

Now  I  am  noc  so  foolish  as  to  dream  that  it  is  possible  to  make  any 
such  change  in  Society  as  will  enable' the  poor  man  to  take  his 
wife,  and  children  for  a  fortnight's  sojourn,  during  the  oppressive 
summer  days,  to  brace  them  up  for  their  winter's  task,  although  this 
might  be  as  desirable  in  their  case  as  in  that  of  their  more  highly 
favoured  fellow-creatures.  '  But  1  would  make  it  pos<iible  for  every 
man,  woman  and  child,  to  get,  now  and  then,  a  day's  refreshing 
change  by  a  visit  to  that  never-failing  source  of  interest. 

In  the  carrying  out  of  4his  plan,  .we  are  met  at  the  onset  with" a 
difficultx,.Qf   some  Ittle  jiagnitude, :  ant^ithatiis^the^necessityjofi^ 


!  't'l 


238 


jwhitechapel-by-the-sf;i^ 


I  s 


!    i 


1   ! 


vastly  reduced  charge, in  the  cost  of  the  journey.  To  do  anj-thing 
effective  we  must  be  able  to  get  a  man  from^hitechapel  or  Stratford 
to  the  sea-side  and  back  for  a  shilling. 

Unfortunately,-  London  '■  is-  sixty  miles  from  the  sea.  :  Suppose  we 
take  it  at  seventy  miles. -^^^^This  would  involve  \  a  journey  of ;  one 
hundred  and  forty  miles  for  the  small  sum  of  is.  .Can  this.be  ddrie?  I 
thmk  it  can,  and  done -to  pay  the  railway  companies  ; ;:  otherwise 
there  is  ho  ground  to  hope  for  this  part  of%iy  Scheme  ever  being 
realised.  *"  But  I  think  that  this  great  boon  can  be  granted  to  the 
poor  people  without  the  dividends  being  sensibly  affected.  -^ I. .am 
told  that  the  cost  of  haulage  for  an  ordinary  passenger;?  train, 
carrying  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  persons,  is  2s.  7d.  per  mile.; 
a  railway  company  could  lake  six  hundred  passengers  seventy  miles 
there;  and  bring  them  seventy  miles  back,  at  a  cost  of  ;^i8  is.  8d, 
Six  hundred  passengers  at  a  shilling  is  ;^30,  so  that  there  would  be  a 
clear  profit  to  the  company  of  nearly  ;^I2  on  the  haulage,  towards 
the  payment  of  interest  on  the  capital,  wear  and  tear  of  line,  &c. 
But  I  reckon,  at  a  very  moderate  computation,  that  two  hundred 
thousand  persons  would  travel  to  and  fro  every  season.  An  addition 
of  ;^  10, OCX)  to  the  exchequer  of  a  railway  company  is  not  to  be 
despised,  and  this  would  be  a  mere  bagatelle  to  the  indirect  profits  which 
would  follow  the  establishment  of  a  settlement  which  must  in  due 
course  necessarily  become  very  speedily  a  large  and  active  com- 
munity.; 

This  it  would  be  necessary  to  bring  home* to  the  railway  com- 
panies, and  for  the  execution  of  this  part  of  my  Scheme  I  must  wait 
till  I  get  some  manager  sufficiently  public-spirited  to  try  the  experi- 
ment. When  such  a  man  is  found,  I  purpose  to  set  at  once  about 
my  Sea-Side  Establishment.  This  will  present  the  following  special 
advantages,  which  I  am  quite  certain  will  be  duly  appreciated  by  the 
very  poorest  of  the  London  population  : — 

An  es.dte  of  some  three  hundred  acres  would  be  purchased,  on 
which  buildings  would  be  erected,  calculated  to  meet  the  wants  of 
this  class  of  excursionists^: 

Refreshments  would  be  provided  at  rates  very  similar  to  thpse 
charged  at  our  London  Food  Dep6ts.  There  would,  of  course,  be 
greater  facilities  in  the  way  of  rooms  and  accommodation  generally. 

'Lodgings  for.  invalids,  children,  and  those,  requiring* to  make  a 
short  stay  in  the  place  would  be  supplied  at  the  lowest  prices.  Beds 
ificuLsini^emen  and. single  women  could  be  .charged^ at  the  Ipw  rate 


A    BRIGHTON    FOR    THE    EAST    END/ 


239 


0  an}"thing 
r  Stratford 

uppose  we 
ey  of  one 
>eddrie?:i 
otherwise 
ever  being 
ted  to  the 
ed.  ^I.^am 
igei:>  train, 
.  per  mile.; 
enty  miles 
1 8  IS.  8d, 
vould  be  a 
e,  towards 

line,  &c. 

hundred 
n  addition 
not  to  be 
ofits  which 
ust  in  due 
:tive  com- 

Iway  com- 
must  wait 
he  experi- 
nce  about 
ng  special 
ed  by  the 

based,  on 
wants  of 

to  thpse 
ourse,  be 
;nerally. 
>  make  a 
s.    Beds 

Ipwrate 


of  sixpence  a  night,  and  children  in  proportion,  while  accommoda- 
tion of  a  suitable  character,  on  ..very,  moderate  terms^  oould  be 
arranged  for  married  people. ' 

No  public-houses  would  be  allowed  within'cth'e  precinHS  of  "(be 
settlement. 

A  park,  playground,  music,  boats, -covered  !  converiiences-^for 
bathing,  without  the  expense  of  hiring  a  machine,  and  other  arrange- 
ments for  the  comfort  and  enioyment  of  the  people  would  be  provided. 

The  estate  would  form  one  of  the  Colonies  of  the  general  enter- 
prise, and  on  it  would  be  grown  fruit,  vegetables,  flowers,  and  other, 
produce,  for  the  use  of  the  visitors,  and  sold  at  the  lowest  remunera- 
tive rates.  ,One  of  the  first  provisions  for  the  comfort  of  the 
excursionists  would  be  the  erection  of  a  large  hall,  affording  ample 
shelter  in  case  of  unfavourable  weather,  and  in  this  and  other  parts 
of  the  place  there  would  be  the  fullest  opportunity  for  ministers  of  all 
denominations  to  hold  religious  services  in  connection  with i  an ^ 
excursionists  they  might  bring  with  them. 

There  would  be  shops  for  tradesmen,  houses  for  reside'ntsp'a 
museum  with  a  panorama  and  stuffed  whale  ;  boats  would  be  let  out 
at  moderate  prices,  and  a  steamer  to  carry  people  so  many  miles  out 
*o  sea,  and  so  many  miles  back  for  a  penny,  with  a  possible  bout  of 
sickness,  for  which  no  extra  charge  would  be  made. 

In  fact  the  railway  fares  and  refreshment  arrangements  would  be 
»n  sacn  a  scale,  that  a  husband  and  wife  could  have  a  70-mile  ride 
through  the  green  fields,  the  new-mown  hay,  the  waving  grain  or 
fruit  laden  orchards  ;  could  wander  for  hours  on  the  seashore,  have 
comforting  and  nourishing  refreshment,  and  be  landed  back  at  home 
sober,  cheered  and  invigorated  for  the  small  sum  of  3s.  A  couple 
of  children  under  12  might  be  added  at  is.  6d. — nay,  a  whole  family^ 
husband,  wife  and  four  children,  supposing,  one  is  in  arms,  could  have 
a  day  at  the  seaside,  without  obligation  or  charity,  for  5s. 
/The  gaunt,  hungry  inhabitants  of  the  Slums  would  save  up  their 
halfpence,  and  come  by  thousands ;  clergymen  would  find  it  possible 
to  bring  half  the  poor  and  needy  occupants  of  their  ^parishes  ; 
schools,  mothers*  meetings,  and  philanthropic  societies  of  all 
descriptions  would  come  down  wholesale;  in  short,  what  Brighton 
is  to  the  West  End  and  middle  classes,  this  place  would  be  to  the 
East  End  poor,  nay,  to  the  poor  of  the  Metropolis  generally,  a 
Whitechapel-by-the-Sea. 


'.   t 


■■:i{i 


.'!i 


I  Ml 


h 


J24a WHITECHAPEL-BY-V:  '.'^-BZAT 

^ — ,...,  -*y^v..Mn,.-!];::...^ ......     '-,^v,    ...;■  .,  -- — ■     -     .    -.'-■■  ^^.,>'-i^.  -J^ 

^  Now  this  ought  to  be  done  apart  from  my  Scheme  altogether.  \^The 
rich  corporations  which  have  the  charge  of  the  affairs  of  this^great 
City,  and  the  millionaires,  who  would  never  have  amassed  ;,,their 
fortunes  but  by  the  assistance  of  the  masses,  ought  to.9ay  it  shall .  be 
done.  .:  Suppose  the  Railway  Companies  refused  to  lend  the  great 
highways  of  which  they  have  become  the  monopolists  for  such  v  an 
undertaking  without  a  subvention,  then  the  necessary  ^subvention 
should  be  forthcoming.';;  If  it  could  be  made  possible  for  the  joyless 
toilers  to  come  out  of  the  sweater's  den,  or  the  stifling  factory  ;  if  the 
seamstress  could  leave  her  needle,  and  the  mother  get  away  from  the 
weary  round  of  babydom  and  household  drudgery  for  a  day  now  and 
then,  to  the  cooling,  invigorating,  heart-stirring  influences  of  the  sea,' 
it  should  be  done,  even  if  it  did  cost  a  few  paltry  thousands.  Let  the 
men  and  women  who  spend  a  little  fortune  every  year  in  Continental 
?.ours,  Alpine  climbings,  yacht  excursions,  and  many  another  form  of 
luxurious  wanderings,  come  forward  and  say  that  it  shall  be  possible 
for  these  crowds  of  their  less  fortunate  brethren  to  have  the  oppor« 
mnity  of  spending  one  day  at  least  iji  the  year  by  the  sea. 


/  CHAPTER  VIL 

CAN  IT  BE  DONE,' AND  HOWJ    '  - 

Section  i.—THE  CREDENTIALS  OF  THE  SALVATION  ARMY. 

Can  this  great  work  be  done?.l  I  believe  it  can.  And  I  believe 
that  it  can  be  done  by  the  Salvation  Army,  because  it^has  ready 
to  hand  an  organisation  of  men  and  ^  women,  numerous  enough 
and' zealous  enough  .  to  .Trapple  with,  the  enormous  undertaking. 
The  work"  may.  prove  ueyond  our  powers.  But  this  is  not  so 
manifest  as.  to  preclude  us  from  wishing  to  make  the  attempt. 
15^at  in  itself  is  a  qualification  which  is  shared  by  no  other 
organisation — at  present.  ,  If  we  can  do  it  we  have  the  field  entirely 
to  ourselves. ...  The  wealthy  churches  show  no  inclination  to  com- 
pete for  the  onerous  privilege  of  making  the  experiment  in  this  defi- 
nite* and  practical  form.  ..Whether  we  have  the  power  or  not,  we 
have,  at  least,  the  will,  the  ambition  to  do  this  great  thing  for  the 
sake  of  our  brethren,  and  therein  lies  our  first  credential  for  being 
entrusted  with  the  enterprise. 

The  second  credential  is  the  fact  that,  while  using  all  material 
means,  our.  reliance  is  on  the  co-working  power  of  God.  We 
keep'  our.  powder  dry,  but  we  trust  in  Jehovah.  We  go  not 
forth  in  our  own  strength  to  this  battle,  our  dependence  is 
upon  Him  who  can  influence  the  heart  of  man.  There  is 
no  doubt  "that  the  most  satisfactory  method  of  raising  a  man 
must  be  to  effect  such  a  change  in  his  views  and  feelings  that  he 
shall  voluntarily  abandon  his  evil  ways,  give  himself  to  industry  and 
goodness  in  the  midst  of  the  very  temptations  and  companionships 
that  before  le  J  him  astray,  and  live  a  Christian  life,  an  example  in 
himself  of  what  can  be  done  by  the  power  of  God  in  the  very  face 
of  the  most  impossible  circumstances. 


I  r 


242 


THE  CREDENTIALS  OF  THE  SALVATION'ARMY: 


■     ! 


i'    ! 


But  herein  lies  the  great  difficulty  again  and  again  referred  to,  men 
have  not  that  force  of  character  which  will  constrain  them  to  avail 
[themselves  of  the  methods  of  deliverance.  Now  our  Scheme  is 
based  on  the  necessity  of  helping  such. 

Our  third  credential  is  the  fact  that  we  hatve  already  out  of 
practically  nothing  achieved  so  great  a  measure  of  success  that  we 
think  we  may  reasonably  be  entrusted  with  this  further  duty. '  The 
ordinary  operati  ;is  of  the  Army  have  already  effected  most  wonder- 
ful changes  in  tht  conditions  of  the  poorest  and  worst.  Multitudes 
of  slaves  of  vice  in  every  form  have  been  delivered  not  only  from 
these  habits,  but  from  the  destitution  and  misery  which  they  ever 
produce.  Instances  have  been  given.  Any  number  more  can  be 
produced.  Our  experience,  wkich  has  been  almost  world-wide,  has  ever 
shown  that  not  only  docs  the  criminal  become  honest,  the  drunkard 
sober,  the  harlot  chaste,  but  that  poverty  of  the  most  abject  and 
helpless  type  vanishes  away. 

Our  fourth  credential  is  that  our  Organisation  alone  of  England's 
religious  bodies  is  founded  upon  the  principle  of  implicit  obedience. 

For  Discipline  I  can  answer.  The  Salvation  Army,  largely 
recruited  from  among  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  is  often  reproached  by 
its  enemies  on  account  of  the  severity  of  its  rule.  It  is  the  only 
religious  body  founded  in  our  time  that  is  based  upon  the  principle 
of  voluntary  subjection  to  an  absolute  authority.  No  one  is  bound 
to  remain  in  the  Army  a  day  longer  than  he  pleases.  While  he 
remains  there  he  is  bound  by  the  conditions  of  the  Service.  The 
first  condition  of  that  Service  is  implicit,  unquestioning  obedience. 
The  Salvationist  is  taught  to  obey  as  is  the  soldier  on  the  field  of 
battle:- 

From  the  time  when  the  Salvation  Army  began  to  acquire  strength 
and  to  grow  from  the  grain  of  mustard  seed  until  now,  when  its 
branches  overshadow  the  whole  earth,  we  have  been  constantly 
warned  against  the  evils  which  this  autocratic  system  would  entail. 
Especially  were  we  told  Ihat  in  a  democratic  age  the  people  would 
never  stand  the- establishment :  of  what  was  described  as  a  spiriua! 
despotism.  'It  was  contrary  "lo  the  spirit  of  the  times,  it  would  be  a 
stone  of  stumbling  and  a  rock  of  offence  to  the  masses  to  whom  we 
ap{>eal,  and  so  forth  and  so  forth. 

But  what  has  been  the  answer?  off  Accomplished  fac^s,  to;  'ttiese 
predictions  of  theorists  ?  -'  Despite  the  alleged  unpopularitjy^  of  our 
aisc|jj^in<yjp^rhap^  because    cf' th£  rjgour  of^^iniIitarMMthQri!^y;ypi.ijj 


srred  to,  men 
hem  to  avail 
'   Scheme  is 

sady   out  of 
ess  that  we 
duty. '  The 
ost  wonder- 
Multitudes 
t  only  from 
1  they  ever 
lore  can  be 
ide,  has  ever 
le  drunkard 
abject  and 

'  England's 
>bedience. 
ly,    largely 
roached  by 
s  the  only 
e  principle 
-  is  bound 
While  he 
^^ice.     The 
obedience, 
he  field  of 

•e  strength 
,  when  its 
constantly 
uld  entail, 
pie  would 
a  spiriual 
/ould  be  a 
whonj  we 

:  tor-^!ieGe 
itj'o^tur 


TEN    THOUSAND   OFFICERS. 


243 


which  we  have  insisted,  the  Salvation  Army  has  grown  from  year  to 
year  with  a  rapidity  to  which  nothing  in  modern  Christendom 
affords  any  paralle'.  It  is  only  twenty-five  years  since  it  was  born. 
It  is  now  the  largest  Home  and  Foreign  Missionary  Society  in  the 
J^'rotestant  world.  We  have  nearly  10,000  officers  under  our  orders, 
a  number  increasing  every  day,  every  one  of  whom  has  taken  service 
on  Rie  express  condition  that  he  or  she  will  obey  without  questioning 
or  gainsaying  the  orders  from  Headquarters.  Of  these,  4,600  are 
in  Qreal  Britain.  The  greatest  number  outside  these  islands,  in 
any  one  country,  are  in  the  Amcri(;an  Republic,  where  we  have  l,Ol8 
officers,  and  democratic  Australia,  where  we  have  800. 

Nor  is  the  submission  to  our  discipline  a  mere  paper  loyalty. 
These  officers  are  in  the  field,  constantly  exposed  to  privation  and 
ill-treatment  of  all  kinds.  A  telegram  from  me  will  send  any  of 
them  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  will  transfer  them  from 
the  Slums  of  London  to  San  Francisco,  or  despatch  them  to  assist 
in  opening  missions  in  Holland,  Zululand,  Sweden,  or  South 
America.  So  far  from  resenting  the  exercise  of  authority,  the 
Salvation  Army  rejoices  to  recognise  it  as  one  great  secret  of 
its  success,  a  pillar  of  strength  upon  which  all  its  soldiers  can 
rely,  a  principle  which  stamps  it  as  being  different  from  all  other 
religious  organisations  founded  in  our  day. 

With  ten  thousand  officers,  trained  to  obey,  and  "trained  equally 
to  command,  I  do  not  feel  that  the  organisation  even  of  the  dis- 
or  ;anised,  sweated,  hopeless,  drink-sodden  denizens  of  darkest 
England  is  impossible.  It  is  possible,  been  ic  it  has  already  been 
accomplished  in  the  case  of  thousandi.  who,  .-  :  )re  they  were  saved, 
were  even  such  as  those  whose  evil  lot  we  are  now  attempting 
to  deal  with. 

Our.-,  fifth  *  credential  is  the  extent  and  universality  of  the 
Army.  'What  a  mighty  agency  for  .working  out  the  Scheme  is 
found  in ,  the  Army  in  this  respect!  This  will  be  apparent  v  hen 
we  consider  that  it  has  already  stretched  itself  -  through  over 
thirty  diffiprent  Countries  and  Colonies,  with  a  permanent  location  in 
somethings  like  4,000  different  places,  that  it  has  eith&r  soldiers 
or  frieads  suffKi'Ofatly  in  sympath}'  with  it  to  render  assistancr  » 
almoflt  every  coqsiderable  population  in  the  civilised  world,  and 
in  mijch,  of  .t|^;Utv:iMi.lise4i,  that  it  has  nearly  ,io^QOO  sepa^^d 
oSScerft  whose-  %^JiTAgi  atod  l«ibur»,  and  hi«tory  qitelify  them  to 
become    its   enthusiastic    and    earnest   co-workers.      In    fact,    our 


Ml 


n 


V 


I 


I  i 

I 


l''  I 


244' 


.THE 


CREDENTIALS  OF  THE  SALVATION  ARMY. 


whole  people  will  hail  it  as  the  missing  link  in  the  great  Scheme 
for  the  regeneration  of  mankind,  enabling  them  to  act  out  those 
impulses  of  their  hearts  which  are  ever  prompting  them  to  do 
good  to  the  bodies  as  well  as  to  the  souls  of  men. 

Take  the  meetings.  With  few  exceptions,  every  one  of  these  four 
thousand  centres  has  a  Hall  in  which,  on  every  evening  in  the  week 
and  from  early  morning  until  nearly  midnight  on '  every  Sabbath, 
services  are  being  held  ;  that  nv^arly  every  service  held  indoors  is  pre- 
ceded by  one  out  of  doors,  the  special  purport  of  every  one  being 
the  saving  of  these  wretched  crowds.  Indeed,  when  this  Scheme  is 
perfected  and  fairly  at  work,  every  meeting  and  every  procession  will 
be  looked  upon  as  an  advertisement  of  the  earthly  as  well  as  the 
heavenly  conditions  of  happiness.  And  every  Barracks  and  Officer's 
quarters  will  become  a  centre  where  poor  sinful  suffering  men  and 
women  may  find  sympathy,  counsel,  and  practical  assistance  in  every 
sorrow  that  can  possibly  come  upon  them,  an'^  every  Officer 
throughout  our  ranks  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe  will  become 
a  co-worker. 

See  how  useful  our  people  will  be  in  the  gathering  in  of  this  class. 
They  are  in  touch  with  them.  ;  They  live  in  the  same  street,  work 
in  the  same  shops  and  factories,  and  come  in  contact  with  them  at 
every  turn  and  corner  of  life.  If  they  don't  live  amongst  them,  they 
formerly  did.  They  know  where  to  find  them  ;  they  are  their  old 
chums,  pot-house  companions,  and  pals  in  crime  and  mischief  This 
class  is  the  perpetual  difficulty  of  a  Salvationist's  life.  He 
feels  that  there  is  no  help  for  them  in  the  conditions  in  n^iich 
they  are  at  present  found.  They  are  so  hopelessly  weak,  and  their 
temptations  are  so  terribly  strong,  that  they  go  down  before  them. 
The  Salvationist  feels  this  when  he  attacks  them  in  the  tap-rooms, 
in  the  low  lodging  houses,  or  in  their  own  desolate  homes.  Hence, 
with  many,  the  Crusader  has  lost  all  heart.  He  has  tried  them  so 
often.  But  this  Scheme  of  taking  them  right  a-vay  from  their  old 
h^iunts  and  temptations  will  put  new  life  into  him  and  he  will  gather 
up  the  poor  social  wrecks  wholesale,  pass  them  along,  and  then  go 
and  hunt  for  more. 

Then  see  how  useful  this  army  of  Officers  and  Soldiers  will  be  for 
the  regeneration  of  this  festering  mass  of  vice  and  crime  when  it  is/' 
so  to  speak,  in  our  possession. 

AH  the  thousands  of  drunkards,  and  harlots,  &iid  blasphemers,  and 
idlers  have  to  be, made  over  again,  to  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  their 


'f\ 


SET  A  ROGUE  TO  CATCH  A  ROGUE/ 


ZA%i 


Scheme 
)ut  those 
m  to  do 

hese  four 
the  week 
Sabbath; 
rs  is  pre- 
ne  being 
cheme  is 
ision  will 
!1  as  the 
Officer's 
men  and 
in  every 
Officer 
become 

lis  class. 

et,  work 

them  at 

;m,  they 

heir  old 

'.  -  This 

He 

wiiich 

nid  their 

them. 

-rooms, 

Hence, 

iem  so 

leir  old 

gather 

hen  go 


t  _.  ■         .  ■     -  ■-_, 

minds,  thai  is — made  good.    What  a  host  of  moral  workers  will  be  re-^ 

quired  to  accomplish  such  a  gigantic  transformation.   In  the  Army  we^ 

have  a  few  thousands  ready,  anyway  we  have  as  many  as  can  be 

used  at  the  outset,  and  the  Scheme  itself  will  go  on  manufacturing 

more.   ■  Look  at  the  qualifications  of  these  warriors  for  the  work ! 

They  have  been  trained  themselves,  brought  into  line  anH  are 
examples  of  the  characters  we  want  to  produce.    ,  , 

They  understand  their  pupils — having  been  dug  out  of  the  same 
pit.  Set  a  rogue  to  catch  a  rogue,  they  say,  that  is,  we  suppose, 
a  reformed  rogue.  Anyway,  it  is  so  with  us.  These  rough-and- 
ready  warriors  will  work  shoulder  to  shoilder  with  them  in  the 
same  manual  employment.  ".  They  will  engagv^  in  the  task  for  love. 
This  is  a  substant  >!  part  of  their  religion,  the  moving  instinct  of 
the  new  heavenly  nature  that  has  come  upon  them.  They  want 
to  spend  their  lives  in  doing  good.     Here  will  be  an  opportunity. 

Then  see  how  useful  these  Soldiers  will  be  for  disvtribution  I  Every 
Salvation  Officer  and  Soldier  in  every  one  of  these  4,000  centres, 
scattered  through  these  thirty  odd  countries  and  colonies,  vrith  all 
their  correspondents  and  friends  and  comrades  living  elsewhere,  will 
be  ever  on  the  watch-tower  looking  out  for  homes  and  employments 
where  these  rescued  men  and  women  can  be  fixed  up  to  advantage, 
nursed  into  moral  vigour,  picked  up  again  on  stumbling,  and  watched 
over  generally  until  able  to  travel  the  rough  and  slippery  paths  of 
life  alone.  - 

1  am.  therefore,  not  without  warrant  for  my  confidence  in  the 
possibility  of  doing  great  things,  if  the  problem  so  long  deemed 
hopeless  be  approached  with  intelligence  and  determination  on  a 
scale  corresponding  to  the  magnitude  of  the  evil  with  which  we 
have  to  co{'€. 


- 1'  ■ 

-'V 


be  for 
n  It  18/ 


r8,and 
)f  their 


mf 


1     I 


J        "I 

i    1 


Sections.— HOW  MUCH  WILL  IT  COST?. 

A  considerable  amount  of  money  will  be  required  to  fairly  launch 
this  Scheme,  and  some  income  may  be  necessary  to  sustain  it  for  a 
season,  but,  once  fairly  afloat,  we  think  there  is  good  reason  to 
believe  that  in  all  its  branches  it  will  be  self-supporting,  unless  its 
area  of  operation  is  largely  extended,  on  which  we  fully  rely.  Of 
course,  the  cost  of  the  effort  must  depend  very  much  upon  its  magni- 
tude. If  anything  is  to  be  done  commensurate  with  the  extent  of 
the  evil,  it  will  necessarily  require  a  proportionate  outlay.  If  it  is 
only  the  drainage  of  a  garden  that  is  undertaken,  a  few  pounds  will 
meet  the  cost,  but  if  it  is  a  great  dismal  swamp  of  many  miles  in 
area,  harbouring  all  manner  of  vermin,  and  breeding  all  kinds  of 
deadly  malaria,  that  has  to  be  reclaimed  and  cultivated,  a  very 
diiferent  sum  will  not  only  be  found  necessary,  but  be  deemed  an 
economic  investment. 

Seeing  that  the  country  pays  out  something  like  Ten  Millions  per 
annum  in  Poor  Law  and  Charitable  Relief  without  securing  any  real 
abatement  of  the  evil,  I  cannot  doubt  that  the  public  will  hasten  to 
supply  one-tenth  of  that  sum.  If  you  reckon  that  of  the  submerged 
tenth  we  have  one  million  to  deal  with,  this  will  only  be  one  pound 
per  head  for  each  of  those  whom  it  is  sought  to  benefit,  or  say 

ONE     MILLION     STERLING 

to  give  the  present  Scheme  a  fair  chance  of  getting  into  practical 
operation;-  . 

According  to  the  amount  furnished,  must  necessarily  be  the  extent 
of  our  operations.  ^'^We.  have  carefully  calculated  that  with  one 
hundred  thousand  pounds  the  scheme  can  be  successfully  set  in 
motion,  and  that  it  can  be  kept  going  on  an  annual  income  of 
;^30,Q00  which  is  about  three  and  a-quarter  per  cent,  on  the  balance 
of  th«;  miUion  sterling,  for  which  I  ask  as  an  earnest  that  the  public 
intend,  to  put  its  hand  to  '  this  business  with  serious  resolution ; 
^jid  our  judgment  is*  <base4^  not  on  any  mene  imaginings,  but  upon 
fte  aetiNir  result  of  ^  'e^agxeEunentB  alroady  made.  StiU' it  mud!t  be 
FeMcniberttd  that  so  vaet  and  desirable  an  end  cannot  be  even 
practicallyMContemplated  without  a  proportionate  fi.nancial  outlay. 

Supposing,  however,vby  the  subscription  of  this  amount  the  under- 
.taking  isfairl^  set  afloaC    OChs,  ^u$sti.oja.  maxhfi.aakfid4^-^ASihatiui:hfii: 


FINANCING   THE    CITY    COLONY.' 


24r 


f. 

»  fairly  launch 
Jstain  it  for  sa 
3od  reason  to 
ng,  unless  its 
ully  rely.    Of 
on  its  magni- 
the  extent  of 
tlay.     Ifit  is 
r  pounds  will 
lany  miles  in 
all  kinds  of 
ated,  a  very 
i  deemed  an 

Millions  per 
ing  any  real 
ill  hasten  to 
:  submerged 
one  pound 
or  say 

to  practical 

the  extent 
with   one 
illy  set  in 
income  of 
he  balance 
the  public 
esolution ; 
but  upon 
itmu^te 
fae  even 
tlay. 

le  under- 
atiiuthfic 


funds  will  be  required  for  its  efficient  maintenance  ?  "  This  question 
we  proceed  to  answer.  Let  us  look  at  the  three  Colonies  apart,  and 
then  at  some  of  the  circumstances  which  apply  to  the  whole.  ,,To 
begin  with,  there  is  ' 

THE   FINANCIAL   ASPECT   OF  THE    CITY    COLONY. 

Here  there  will  be,  of  course,  a  considerable  outlay  required  for 
the  purchasing  and  fitting  up  of  property,  the  acquisition  of  machinery, 
furniture,  tools,  and  the  necessary  plant  for  carrying  forward  all  these 
varied  operations.  These  once  acquired,  no  further  outlay  will  be 
needed  except  for  the  necessary  reparations. 

The  Homes  for  the  Destitute  will  be  nearly,  it  not  quite,  self- 
austaining.  The  Superior  Homes  for  both  Single  and  Married 
people  will  not  only  pay  Aar  themselves,  but  return  some  interest 
on  the  amount  invested,  which  would  be  devoted  to  the  futherance 
of  other  parts  of  the  Scheme. 

The  Refuges  for  Fallen  Girls  would  require  considerable  funds 
to  keep  them  going.  But  the  public  has  never  been  slow  to 
practically  express  its  sympathy  with  this  class  of  work 

The  Criminal  Homes  and  Prison  Gate  Operaticii-.  would  require 
continued  help,  but  not  a  very  great  deal.  Then,  the  work  in  the 
Slums  is  somewhat  expensive.  The  eighty  young  women  at 
present  engaged  in  it  cost  on  an  average  I2s.  per  week  each  for 
personal  maintenance,  inclusive  of  clothes  and  other  little  matters, 
and  there  are  expenses  for  Halls  and  some  little  relief  which 
cannot  in  anyway  be  avoided,  bringing  our  present  annual  Slum 
outlay  to  over  ;^4,ooo.  But  the  poor  people  amongst  whom  they 
work,  notwithstanding  their  extreme  poverty,  are  already  contributing 
over  ;Ci,OQO  per  annum  towards  this  amount,  which  income  will 
increase.  -Still  as  by  this  Scheme  we  propose  to  add  at  once  a 
hundred  to  the  number  already  engaged,  money  will  be  required 
to  keep  this  department  going. 

The  Inebriate  Home,  I  calculate,  will  maintain  itself.  All  its 
innji^s  will  have  to  engage  in  some  kind  of  remunerative  labour,,  and 
we  calculate,  in  addition,  upon  receiving  money  with  a  con- 
M^fejeab^e^  number  of  those  availing  themselves  of  its  benefits. 
But  to  practjeajly  assist  the  half-million  slaves  of  the  cup  we 
must  have  money  not  only  tojaunch  out  but  to  keep  our  operations 
going. 

The  Food 'Pepdts;^ once  fitted-  up,  pay  thi^ir  own  working;  cxpensesr 


iii 


•J 
■  »  ' 


248 


HOW    MUCH    WILL;  IT-'^COST  ? 


The  Emigration,  Advice,  and  Inquiry  Bureaux  must  maihtain 
themselves  or  nearly  so. 

The  Labour  Shops,  AntiTSweating,  and  other  simifarjopcrations 
will  without  question  require  money  to  make  ends  meet. 

But  on  the  whole,  a  very  small  sum  of  money,  in  proportion  to  the 
immense  amount  of  work  done,  will  enable  us  to  accomplish.  £L<  vast' 
deal  of  good. 

THE  FARM   COLONY  FROM   A  FINANCIAL'  POINT  OF  V1EW.^ 

.  ■■ .  -  .  .        ■-  ■    \, 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  Farm  Colony,  and  consider  it  from  a 
monetary  standpoint.  Here  also  a  certain  amount  of  money  will 
have  to  be  expended  at  the  outset ;  some  of  the  chief  items  of  which 
will  be  the  purchase  of  land,  the  erection  of  buildings,  the  supply 
of  stock,  and  the  production  of  first  crops.  „  ;  There  is  an  abundance 
of  land  in  the  market,  at  the  present  time,  at  very  low  prices. 

It  is  rather  important  for  the  initial  experiment  '  that  all  estate 
should  be  obtained  not  too  far  from  London,  with  land  suitable  for 
immediate  cultivation.  Such  an  estate  would  beyond  question  be 
expensive.  After  a  time,  I  have  no  doubt,  we  shall  be  able  to  deal 
with  land  of  almost  any  quality  (and  that  in  almost  any  part  of  the 
couiitry),  in  consequence  of  the  superabundance  of  labour  we  shall 
possess.  There  is  no  question  if  the  scheme  goes  forward,  but 
that  estates  will  be  required  in  connection  with  all  our  large  towns 
and  cities.  I  am  not  without  hope  that  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
land  will  be  given,  or,  in  any  way,  sold  to  us  on  "^ry  favourable 
terms. 

When  acquired  and  stocked,  it  is  calculated  that  this  land,  if  culti- 
vated by  spade  husbandry,  will  support  at  least  two  persons  per 
acre.  The  ordinary  reckoning  of  those  who  have  had .  experience 
with  allotments  gives  five  persons  to  three  acres.  But,  even  sup- 
posing that  this  calculation  is  a  little  too  sanguine,  we.  can  still 
reckon  a  farm  of  500  acres  supporrine.  without  any  outside  assist-^ 
ance,  say,  750  persons.  But,  in  this  Scheme,  we  should  have  many! 
advantages  not  possessed  by  the  simple  peasant,  such  as-thosei 
resulting  from  combination,  market  gardening,  and  the  otheri^formsj 
of  cultivation  already  referred  to,  and  thus  we  should  wantjo  place' 
two  or  three  times  this  number  on  that  quantity  of  land.f 

By  a  combination  of  City  and  Town  Colonies,  there  will? BeTaJ 
market  for  at  least  a  large  portion  of  the  products.  ;..,At  the  rate , of 
our^jHTeseDtconsumptiop  in.the  London  Food  Depots '  ai»L.Homec3 


;"  t 


THE    FINANCIAL   ASPECT    OF    THE    FARM. 


249 


nust  maihtain 


side  assist-'^ 


for  the  Destitute  alone,  at  least  50  acres  would  be  required  for 
potatoes  alone,  and  every  additional  Colonist  would  be  an  additicnal 
consumer. 

There  will  be  no  rent  to  pay,  as  it  is  proposed  to  buy  the  land  right 
out.  In  the  event  of  a  great  rush  being  made  for  the  allotments 
spoken  of,  further  land  might  be  rented,  with  option,  of  purchase. 

Of  course,  the  continuous  change  of  labourers  would  tell  against 
the  profitableness  of  the  undertaking.  But  this  would  be  oroportior  ally 
beneficial  to  the  country,  seeing  that  everyone  who  passes  through 
the  institution  with  credit  makes  one  less  in  the  helpless  crowd. 

The  rent  of  Cottages  and  Allotments  would  constitute  a  small 
return,  and  at  least  pay  interest  on  the  money  invested  in  them. 

The  labour  spent  upon  the  Colony  would  be  constantly  in- 
creasing .  its  monev  value.  Cottages  would  be  built,  orchards 
planted,  land  enriched,  factories  run  up,  warehouses  erected,  while 
other  improvements  would  be  continually  going  forward.  All  the 
labour  and  a  large  part  of  the  material  would  be  provided* by  the 
Colonists  themselves.  % 

It  may  be  suggested  that  the  workers  would  have  to  be  main- 
tained during  the  progress  of  these  erections  and  manufactures,  the 
cost  of  which  would  in  itself  amount  to  a  considerable  sum.  True, 
and  for  this  the  first  outlay  would  be  required.  But  after  this  every 
cottage  erected,  every  road  made,  in  short  every  structure  and  im- 
provement, would  be  a  means  of  carrying  forward  the  regenerating 
process,  and  in  many  cases  it  is  expected  will  become  a  source  of 
income.        -  . 

As  the  Scheme  progresses,  it  is  not  irrational  to  expect  that 
Government,  or  some  of  the  varied  Local  Authorities,  will  assist 
in  the  working  out  of  a  plan  which,  in  so ,  marked  a  manner, 
will  relieve  the  rates  and  taxes  of  the  country. 

The  salaries  of  Officers  would  be  in  keeping  with  those  given 
in  the  Salvation  Army,  which  are  very  low.l 

No  wages  would"  be  paid  to  Colonists,  as  has  been  described, 
beyond  pocket  money  and  a- trifle  for  extra  service. 

Although  no  permanent  invaUd  would  be  knowinr«ly.  taken  into 
the  Colonies,  it  is  fair  id  assume  that  there  will  be  a  certain  number,' 
and  also  a  considerable  residuum  of  naturally  indolent,  half-witted 
peofAe,  mcapable  of  improvement,  left  upon  our  hands,';^iStill^;it  is 
thought  that  with  reformed  habits,  variety  of '"^mplcfymeiit;^  and 
Itf efttjjpycrsii^htf. such  may J>c,made.lo^CitmJhsJRia^^ 


1, 

I.;. 


I  i 


H; 


>     i 


250 


HOW    MUCH    WILL    IT   COST  7 


at  least,  especially  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that  unless  they  work, 
so  far  as  they  have  ability/  they  cannot  remain  *  in  the  Colony. 

If  the  Household  Salvage  Scheme  which  has  been  explained  in 
Chapter  II.  proves  the  success  we  anticipate,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  great  financial  assistance  will  be  rendered  by  it  to  the  -entire 
scheme  when  once  the  whole  thing  has  been  brought  into.work- 
ingi^rder.^ 

^THE  FINANCIAL  ASPECT  OF  THE   COLONY  OVER-SEA. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  Colony  Over-Sea,  and  regard  it  also  from 
the  financial  standpoint.  Here  we  must  occupy  ourselves  chiefly 
.with  the  preliminary  outlay,  as  we  could  not  for  a  moment  contem- 
plate having  to  find  money  to  assist  it  when  once  fairly  established. 
[The  initial  expense  will,  no  doubt,  be  somewhat  heavy,  but  not  beyond 
a  reasonable  amount. 

.The  land  required  would  probably  be  given,  whether  we  go  to 
iAfrica,  Canada,  or  elsewhere ;  ,  anyway,  it  would  be  acquired  on 
such  easy  terms  as -would  be  a  near  approach  to  a  gift. 

A  considerable '  sum  would  certainly  be  necessary  for  effecting 
the  first  settlements,  ^  There  would  be  temporary  buildings  to^erect, 
land  to  break  up.  and  crop ;  stock,  farm  implements,  and  furniture 
to  purchase,.\and/otherr  similar :  expenses.  -  But .  this ;  would  not  be 
undertaken  on ;(aylarge  scale,  -as  we  should  rely,  to  some , extent,  on 
thet  successive  '■  batches  of;;  Colonists  ;•  more  '  or  less  ^  providing  for 
;themselves,v,and  iin'this  respect- working  out  4  their  own  salvation. 

JThe  amount  advanced  for  passages,"outf.t  money,  and  settlement 
iwould  be  repaid  by.instalments  by  the  Colonists,  which  would  in  turn 
serve  to  pay  the  cost  ofv^  conveying  others , to  the  same  destination. 

Passage;:and  outfit  money  would,  no  doubt, :  continue  to  b^ 
difficulty.  ;^8  per  head,  say  to  Africa-^;^5  paissage  money/'aijd  £i 
^  the  journey  across  the  country — is  a  large  sum  when  a  considerable 
Dumtier  are  involved  ;  and  I  am  afraid  no  Colony  would  be  reached 
at?|av  much  lower  rate.  But  I  ani 'not  without  hope  that '  the 
Government  might  assist  us  in  this  direction.^ 

Taking  np  the  entire  question,  that  is  of  the  three  Colonies,  we 
are  satisfied  that  the  sum  named  will  suffice  to  set  to  work  an 
agency  which  V  ill  probably  rescue  from  lives  of  degradation  and 
i^njprality  an  immense  number  of  people,  and  that  an  income  of  some- 
thing like  ;^30,000  will  keep  it  afloat.  But  supposing  that  a  much 
larger  amount  should. be.. req^uirediJ^^erAtions  greatly  in  advance 


-■  I 


A    MILLION    STERLING  I 


251 


of  those  here  spoken  of,  which  we  think  exceedingly  probable,  it  is  not 
unreasonable  to  expect  that  it  will  be  forthcoming,  seeing  that  caring 
for  the  poor  is  not  only  a  duty  of  universal  obligation,  a  root 
principle  of  all  religion,  but  an  instinct  of  humanity  not  likely  to 
be  abolished  in  our  time.  We  are  not  opposed  to  charity  as  such, 
but  to  the  mode  of  its  administration,  which,  instead  of  permanently 
relieving,  only  demoralises  and  plunges  the  recipients  lower  in  the 
mire,  and  so  defeats  its  own  purpose. 

•■  What  I "  I  think  I  hear  some  say,  "  a  million  sterling  !  how  can 
any  man  out  of  Bedlam  dream  of  raising  such  a  sum?"  Stop  a 
little !  A  million  may  be  a  great  deal  to  pay  for  a  diamond  or  a 
palace,  but  it  is  a  mere  trifle  compared  with  the  sums  which  Britain 
lavishes  whenever  Britons  are  in  need  of  deliverance  if  they  happen 
to  be  imprisoned  abroad.  The  King  of  Ashantee  had  captive  some 
British  subjects — not  even  of  English  birth — in  1869.  .  John  Bull 
despatched  General  Wolseley  with  the  pick  of  the  British  army,  who 
smashed  Koffee  Kalkallee,  liberated  the  captives,  and  burnt  Coomassie, 
and  never  winced  when  the  bill  came  in  for  ;^7  50,000.  But  that  was 
a  mere  trifle.  When  King  Theodore,  of  Abyssinia,  made  captives  of 
a  couple  of  British  representatives.  Lord  Napier  was  despatched  to 
rescue.  He  marched  his  army  to  Magdala,  brought  back  the  prisoners, 
and  left  King  Theodore  dead.  The  cost  of  that  expedition  was  over 
nine  millions  sterling.  The  Egyptian  Campaign,  that  smashed 
Arabi,  cost  nearly  five  millions.  The  rush  to  Khartoum,  that  arrived 
too  late  to  rescue  General  Gordon,  cost  at  least  as  much.  The 
Afghan  war  cost  twenty-one  millions  sterling.  Who  dares  then  to 
say  that  Britain  cannot  provide  a  million  sterling  to  rescue,  not  one 
or  two  captives,  but  a  million,  whose  lot  is  quite  as  doleful  as  that  of 
the  prisoners  of  savage  kings,  but  who  are  to  be  found,  not  in  the 
land  of  the  Soudan,  or  in  the  swamps  of  Ashantee,  or  in  the  Moun- 
tains of  the  Moon,  but  here  at  our  very  doors  ?  '  Don't  talk  to 
me  about  the  impossibility  of  raising  the  million.  -  Nothing  is 
impossible  when  Britain  is  in  earnest.  All  talk  of  impossibility  only 
means  that  you  don't  believe  that  the  nation  cares  to  enter  upon  a 
serious  campaign  against  the  enemy  at  our  gates.  When  John  Bull 
goes  to  the  wars  he  does  not  count  the  cost.  And  who  dare  deny 
that  the  time  has  fully  come  for  a  declaration  of  war  against  the 
Social  Evils  lyhicb  seem  to  shut  out  God  from  this  oiu:  vforld.? 


'j.Vi' 


r Section  3.--SOME  ADVANTAGES  STATED. 

This  Scheme  takes  into  its  embrace  aii  kinas  and  classes  of  men 
who  may  be  in  destitute  circumstances,  irrespective  of  their  character 
or  conduct,  and  charges  itself  with  supplying  at  once  their 
temporal  needs  ;  and  then  aims  at  placing  them  in  a  permAnent 
position  of  comparative  comfort,  the  only  stipulation  mad6  being  a 
willingness  to  work  and  to  conform  to  discipline  on  the  part  of 
those  receiving  its  benefit. 

While  at  the  commencement,  we  must  impose  some  limits  with 
respect  to  age  and  sickness,  we  hope,  when  fairly  at  work,  to  be 
able  to  dispense  with  even  these  restrictions,  and  to  receive  any 
unfortunate  individual  who  has  only  his  misery  to  recommend  him 
and  an  honest  desire  to  get  out  of  it. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  in  this  respect,  the  Scheme  stands  head  and 
shoulders  above  any  plan  that  has  ever  been  mooted  before,  seeing 
that  nearly  all  the  other  charitable  and  remedial  proposals  more  or 
less  confess  their  utter  inability  to  benefit  any  but  what  they  term 
the  "  decent  "  working  man. 

This  Scheme  seeks  out  by  all  manner  of  agencies,  marvellously 
adapted  for  the  task,  the  clcsses  whose  welfare  it  contemplates, 
and,  by  varied  measures  and  motives  adapted  to  their  circum- 
stances,", compels  them  tp  accept  its  benefits. 

Our  '.Plan  contemplates  nothing  short  of  revolutionising  the 
character  of  those  whose  faults  are  the  reason  for  their  destitution. 
We  have » seen  that  with  fully  fifty  per  cent,  of  these  their  own 
evil  conduct  is  the  cause  of  their  wretchedness. ;.  To  stop  .short  with 
them  of  .anything  less  than  a  real  change^of  ..heart  .will -be  to 
invite  and  ensure  failure.  But  this  we  are  confident  .of  . effecting- — 
anywayyiin;  the  great  majority  of  cases,  by  reasonings  land  per- 
suasipns,%concerning  both  earthly  and  heavenly  advantages,  by 
ilJii&''^ai«er  ofiman,  and  by  the  powerpf  God. 


A    FRESH 


START    IN    LIFE. 


253 


By  this  Scheme  any  man,  no  matter  how  deeply  he  may  have 
fallen  in  self-respect  and  the  esteem  of  all  about  him,  may  re-enter 
life  afresh,  with  the  prospect  of  re-establishing  his  character  when 
lost,  or  p)erhaps  of  establishing  a  character  for  the  first  time,  and 
so  obtaining  an  introduction  to  decent  employment,  and  a  claim  for 
admission  into  Society  as  a  good  citizen.  While  many  of  this  crowd 
are  absolutely  without  a  decent  friend,  others  will  have,  on  that 
higher  level  of  respectability  they  once  occupied,  some  relative,  or 
friend,  or  employer,  who  occasionally  thinks  of  them,  and  who,  if 
or»'y  satisfied  that  a  real  change  has  taken  place  in  the  prodigal,  will 
not  only  be  willing,  but  delighted,  to  help  them  once  more. 

By  this  Scheme,  we  believe  we  shall  be  able  to  teach  habits  of 
economy,  household  management,  thrift,  and  the  like.  There  are 
numbers  of  men  who,  although  suffering  the  direst  pangs  of  poverty, 
know  little  or  nothing  about  the  value  of  money,  or  the  prudent  use  of 
it;  £ud  there  are  hundreds  of  poor  women  who  do  not  know  what  a 
decently-managed  home  is,  and  who  could  not  make  one  if  they  had 
the  most  ample  means  and  tried  ever  so  hard  to  accomplish  it, 
having  never  seen  anything  but  dirt,  disorder,  and  misery  in  their 
domestic  history.  They  could  not  cook  a  dinner  or  prepare  a  meal 
decently  if  their  lives  were  dependent  on  it,  never  having  had  a 
chance  of  learning  how  to  do  it.  But  by  this  Scheme  we  hope  to 
teach  tjiese  things. 

By  .  his  .  Plan,  habits  of  cleanliness  will  be  created,  and  some 
knowledge"  of  sanitary  questions  in  general  will  be  imparted. 

This  Scheme  changes  the  circumstances  of  those  whose  poverty 
is  caused  by  their  misfortune. 

To  begin  with,  it  finds  work  for  the  unemployed.  This  is  the 
chief  need.  >  The  great  problem  that  has  for  ages  been  puzzling 
the  brains  of  the  political  economist  and  philanthropist  has  been — 
"  How  can  we  find  these  people  work  ?  "  No  matter  what  other 
helps,  are  discovered,  without  work  there  is  no  real  ground  for 
hope.  4.  Charity  and  all  the  other  ten  thousand  devices  are. only 
temporary  expedients,  altogether  insufficient  to  meet  the  necessity. 
Work,  apart  from  the  fact  that  it  is  God's  method  of  supplying 
the  wantsj  of  man's  composite  nature,  is  an  essential  to  ^  his 
well-being  |;  in  r  every^  way — and  on  this  Plan  ^  there ; ,  is  ^i.work; 
honourable  work — none  of  your  demoralising ".  stone-breaking,^ 
or  OAkum-picking  business,  which  tantalises  .  and  insults  <  poverty. 
Evei3^W0rk(BriwilUfe.el  that  he  is  not  only.„  occupied aforhis^asaon 


'M" 


^m 


\r!i 


vl^'^ 


554 


SOME    ADVANTAGES    stated; 


benefit,  but  that  any  advantage  reaped  over  and  above  that  which 
he  gains  himself  will  serve  to  lift  some  other  poor  wretch  oiit 
of  the  gutter. 

There  would  be  work  within  the  capacity  of  all.  Every  gift 
could  be  employed.  For  instance,  take  five  persons  on  the  Farm — 
a  baker,  a  tailor,  a  shoemaker,  a  cook,  and  an  agriculturist.  The 
baker  would  make  bread  for  all,  the  tailor,  garments  for  all,  the 
shoemaker  shoes  for  all,  the  cook  would  cook  for  all,  and  the 
agriculturist  dig  for' all.  Those  who  know  anything  which  would 
be  useful,  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  Colony  will  be  set  to  do  it,  and 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  any  trade  or  profe£  fion  will  be  taught  one. 

This  Scheme  removes  the  vicious  and  criminal  classes  out  of  the 
snhere  of  those  temptations  before  which  they  have  ''nvariably  fallen 
iH  the  past.  Our  experience  goes  to  show  that  when  you  have,  by 
Divine  grace,  or  by  any  consideration  of  the  advantages  of  a  good 
life,  or  tb**  disadvantages  of  a  bad  one,  produced  in  a  man  circum- 
stanced as  those  whom  we  have  been  describing,  the  resolution  to 
turn  over  a  new  leaf,  the  temptations  and  difficulties  he  has  to 
encou..ter  will  ordinarily  master  him,  and  undo  all  that  has  been 
done,  if  he  still  continues  to  be  surrounded  by  old  companions  and 
allurciiients  to  sin 

Now,  look  at  the  force  of  the  temptations  this  class  has  to  fight 
against.  What  is  it  that  leads  people  to  do  wrong — people  of  all 
classes,  rich  as  well  as  poor?  Not  the  desire  to  sin.  They  do 
not  want  to  sin  ;  many  of  them  do  not  know  what  sin  is,  but  "they 
have  certain  appetites  or  natural  likings,  the  indulgence  of  which  is 
pleasant  to  them,  and  when  the  desire  for  their  unlawful  gratification  is 
aroused,  regardless  of  the  claims  of  God,  their  own  highest  interests, 
or  the  well-being  of  their  fellows,  they  are  carried  away  by  them ; 
and  thus  all  the  good  resolutions  they  have  made  in  the  past  come 
to  grief.^  ■    '■ 

For  instance,  take  the  temptation  which  comes  through  the  natural 
appetite,  hunger.  Here  is ,  a  man  who  has  been  at  a  religious 
meeting,  or  received  some  good  advice,  or,  perhaps,  just  come  out 
of  prison,  with  the  memories  of  the  hardships  he  has  suffered  fresh 
upon  him,  or  the  advice  of  the  chaplain  ringing  in  his  ears.  .  He 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  steal  no  more,  but  he  has  no  means 
of  earning  a  livelihood.  He  becomes  hungry.  What  is  he  to  do  ? 
'a  loa*"  of  bread  tempts  him,  or,  more  likely,  a  gold  chain  which  he 
ican.>;,turii«jnta  JtiOeadj     1^  >mward*struggle^cQinmeDcesH>JheAtriea^tO 


■;  (; 


MINIMISE   THE    TEMPTATIONS. 


1265- 


Stick  to  his  bargaii\  but  the  hunger  goes  on  gnawing  within,  and 
it  may  be  there  is  a  wife  and  children  hungry  as  well  as  himself ; 
so  he  yields  to  the  temptation,  takes  the  chain,  andjn  turn  the 
policeman  takes  him. 

Now  this  man  does  not  want  to  do  wrong,  and  "still  less  does 
he  want  to  go  to  prison.  In  a  sincere,  dreamy  .way  he 'desires 
to  be  good,  and  if  the  path  were  easier  fori  himj?.  he  would 
probably  walk  in  it. 

Again,  there  is  i  the  appetite  for  drink.  That ;  man  has  '  no 
thought  of  sinning  when  he  takes  his  first  glass.'  Much  less 
does  he  waat  to  get  drunk.  He  may  have  still  a  vivid  recollec- 
tion of  the  unpleasant  consequences  that  followed  his  last  spree, 
but  the  craving  is  on  him  ;  the  public-house  is  there  handy ;  his 
companions  press  him ;  he  yields,  and  falls,  and,  perhaps,  falls  to 
rise  no  more. 

We  might  amplify,  but  our  Scheme  proposes  to  take  the  poor 
slave  ri^ht  away  from  the  public-houses,  the  drink,  and  the  com- 
panions that  allure  him  to  it,  and  therefore  we  think  the  chances 
of  reformation  in  him  are  far  greater.  ^ 

Then  think  of  the  great  boon  this  Scheme  will  be  to  the 
children,  bringing  them  out  of  the  slums,  wretched  hovels,  and 
filthy  surroundings  in  which  they  are  being  reared  for  lives  of 
abomination  of  every  description,  into  the  fields,  amongst  the  green 
trees  and  cottage  homes,  where  they  can  grow  up  with  a  chance 
of  saving  both  body  and  soul. 

Think  again  of  the  change  this  Scheme  will  make  for  these  poor 
creatures  from  the  depressing,  demoralising  surroundings,  of  the 
sightly,  filthy  quarters  in  which  they  are  huddled  together,  to  the 
pure  air  and  sights  and  sounds  of  the  country.  There  is  much 
talk  about  the  beneficial  influence  of  pictures,  music  and  litera- 
ture upon  the  multitudes.  Money,  like  water,  is  being  poured 
forth  to  supply  such  abtractions  in  Museums,  People's  Palaces, 
and  the  hke,  for  the  edification  and  amelioration  of  the  social 
condition  of  the  masses.  But  "  God  made  the  country,  man 
made  the  town,"  and  if  we  take  the  people  to  the  pictures  of  divine 
manufacture,  that  must  be  the  superior  plan. 

Again,  the    Scheme  is  capc^ble    of    illimitable    application.  .  The 

plaister  can  be  made  as  large  as  the.  wound.     The  wound  is  certainly 

a  very  extensive  one^and  it  seems  at  first  sight  almost  ridiculous  for 

any  private  enterprise  to  attempt  dealing  with  it.    Three  millions  of 
9 


.1' 


).i 


256 


SOME    ADVANTAGES   STATED. 


people,  living  in  little  short  of  perpetual  misery  have  to  be  reached 
and  rescued  out  of  this  terrible  condition.  But  it  can  be  done,  and 
this  Scheme  will  do  it,  if  it  is  allowed  a  fair  chance.  Not  all  at 
once?  Truel  It  will  take  time,  but  it  will  begin  to  tell  on  the 
festering  mass  straight  away.  Within  a  measurable  distance  we 
ought  to  be  able  to  take  out  of  this  black  sea  at  least  a  huildred 
individuals  a  week,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  this  number  should 
not  go  on  increasing. 

An  appreciable  impression  on  this  gulf  of  misery  would  be  imme- 
diately made,  not  only  for  those  who  are  rescued  from  its  dark 
waters,  but  for  those  who  are  left  behind,  *seeing  that  for  every 
hundred  individuals  removed,  there  is  just  the  additional  work 
which  they  performed  for  those  who  remain.  It  might  not  be  much, 
but  still  it  would  soon  count  up.  Supposing  three  carpenters  are 
starving  on  employment  which  covered  one-third  of  their  time,  if 
you  take  two  away,  the  one  left  will  have  full  employment.  But  it 
will  be  for  the  public  to  fix,  by  their  contributions,  the  extent  of 
our  operations. 

The  benefits  bestowed  by  this  Scheme  will  be  permanent  in  dura- 
tion. It  will  be  seen  that  this  is  no  temporary  expedient,  such  as,  alas! 
nearly  every  effort  hitherto  made  on  behalf  of  these  classes  has  been. 
Relief  Works,  Soup  Kitchens,  Enquiries  into  Character,  Emigration 
Schemes,  of  virhich  .none  will  avail  themselves,  Charity  in  its 
hundred  forms,  Casual  Wards,  the  Union,  and  a  hundred  otb.er 
Nostrums  may  serve  for  the  hour,  but  they  are  only  at  the  besti 
palliations.  But  this  Scheme,  I  am  bold  to  say,  offers  a  sub-| 
stantial  and  permanent  remedy. 

In  relieving  one  section  of  the  community,  our  plan  involves  nol 
interference  with  the  well-being  of  any  other.  (See  Chapter  VII.| 
Section  4,  "  Objections.") 

This  Scheme  removes  the  all  but  insuperable  barrier  to  an  in- 
dustrious and  godly  life.  It  means  not  only  the  leading  of  thcbel 
lost  multiti"^es  out  of  the  "  City  of  Destruction  "  into  the  Canaanl 
of  pic  ity,  but  the  lifting  of  them  up  to  the  same  level  of  advantagel 
with  the  more  favoured  of  mankind  for  securing  the  salvation  ofj 
their  souls. 

Look  at  the  circumstances  of  hundreds  and  thousands  of  thel 
classes  of  whom  we  are  speaking.  From  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  nughtl 
pot  their  influence  in  the  direction  of  Religious  Belief  be  summarisedj 
ju  one  sentence,  "Atheism  made  easy."    Let  my  readers  imagine  theii 


THE  PEOPLE  MUST  BE  HELPED. 


257 


,ve  to  be  reached 
'nn  be  done,  and 
nee.  Not  all  at 
n  to  tell  on  the 
able  distance  we 
least  a  huiidred 
i  number  should 

would  be  imme- 
:d  from  its  dark 
J  that  for  every 
additional  work 
ght  not  be  much, 
i  carpenters  are 
of  their  time,  if 
iloyment.  But  it 
IS,  the  extent  of 

manent  in  dura- 
nt,  such  as,  alas! 
classes  has  been, 
icter,  Emigration 
Charity  in  its 
hundred  other^ 
>nly  at  the  best! 
offers  a  sub-l 

an  involves  nol 
:e  Chapter  VIl] 

rrier  to  an  in- 
sading  of  thebel 
nto  the  Canaanl 

el  of  advantage! 
he  salvation  of 


to  have  been  a  similar  lot.  Is  it  not  possible  that,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, they  might  have  entertained  some  serious  doubts  as 
to  the  existence  of  a  benevolent  God  who  would  thus  allow  His 
creatures  to  stai've,  or  that  they  would  have  been  so  preoccupied  with 
their  temporal  miseries  as  to  have  no  heart  for  any  concern  abouv 
the  .lext  life  ? 

Taice  a  man,  hungry  and  cold,  who  does  not  know  where  his 
next  meal  is  coming  from  ;  nay,  Who  thinks  it  problematical  whether 
it  will  come  at  all.  We  know  his  thoughts  will  be  taken  up  entirely 
with  the  bread  he  needs  for  his  body  What  he  wants  is  a  dinner. 
The  interests  of  his  soul  must  wait. 

Take  a  woman  with  a  starving  family,  who  knows  that  as  soon 
as  Monday  comes  round  the  ^  rent  must  be  paid,  or  else  she  and 
her  children  must  go  into  the  street,  and  her  little  belongings  be 
impounded.  At  the  present  moment  she  isiPwithout  it.  Are  not 
her  thoughts  likely  to  wander  in  that  direction  if  she  slips  into  a 
Church  or  Mission  Hall,  or  Salvation  Army  Barracks  ? 

I  have  had  some  experience  on  thij  subject,  and  hive  been 
making  observations  with  respect  to  it  ever  since  the  day  I  made 
my  first  attempt  to  reach  these  starving,  hungry,  crowds — just 
over  forty-five  s^  years  ago — and  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  these 
multitudes  will  not  be  saved  in  their  present  circumstances.  All 
the  Clergymen,  Home  Missionaries,  Tract  Distributors,  Sick 
Visitors,  and  everyone  else  who  care  about  the  Salvation  of  the 
poor,  may  make  up  their  minds  as  to  that.  If  these  people  are 
to  believe '  in  Jesus  Christ,  .  become  tiie  Servants  of  God,  and 
escape  the  miseries  of  the  wrath  to  come,  they  must  be  helped 
out  of  their  present  social  miseries.  They  m^ist  be  put  into  a 
position  in  which  they  can  work  and  eat,  and  have  a  decent  room 
to  live  and  sleep  in,  and  see  something  before  them  besides  a 
long,  weary,  monotonous,  grinding  round  of.  toil,  and  anxious  care 
to  keep  themselves  and  those  they  love  barely  alive,  with  nothing 
at  the  further  end  but  the  Hospital,  the  Union,  or  the  Madhouse.  If 
Christian  Workers  and  Philanthropists  will  join  hands  to  effect  this 
change  it  will  be  accomplished,  and  the  people  will  rise  up  and  bless 
them,  and  be  saved;  if  they  will  not,  the  people  will  curse  them 
and  perish. 


■   l! 


;'ii>  ii 


■:!:r^i 


I  ,  ! 


SKC 


■Mli 


li    I 


I  ' 


Section  4.— SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET.  ' 

Objections  must  be  expected.  They  are  a  necessity  with  regard 
to  any  Scheme  that  has  not  yet  been  reduced  to  practice,  and 
simply  signify  foreseen  difficulties  in  the  working  of  it.  We  freely 
admit  that  there  are  abundance  of  difficulties  in  the  way  of  work- 
ing out  the  plan  smoothly  and  successfully  that  has  been  laid 
down.  But  many  of  these  we  imagine- will  vanish  Vii'hen  we  come 
to  close  quarters,  and  the  remainder  will  be  surmounted  by 
courage  and  patience.  Should,  however,  this  plan  prove  the 
success  we  predict,  it  must  eventually  revolutionise  the  condition 
of  the  starving  sections  of  Society,  not  only  in  this  great  metro- 
polis, but  throughout  the  whole  range  of  civilisation.  It  must 
therefore  be  worthy  not  only  of  a  careful  consideration  but  of  per- 
severing trial. 

Some  of  these  difficulties  at  first  sight  appear  rather  serious. 
Let  us  look  at  them. 

'Objection  I. — //  is  suggested  that  the  class  of  people  for  whose 
benefit  the  Scheme  is  designed  would  not  avail  themselves  of  it. 

When  the  feast  was  prepared  and  the  invitation  had  gone  forth, 
it  is  said  that  the  starving  multitudes  would  not  come  ;  that  though 
labour  was  offered  them  in  the  City,  or  prepared  for  them  on  the 
Faim,  they  would  prefer  to  rot  in  their  present  miseries  rather 
than  avail  themselves  of  the  benefit  provided. 

In  order  to  gather  the  opinions  of  those  most  concerned,  we 
consulted  one  evening,  by  a  Census  in  our  London  Shelters, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  men  out  of  work,  and  all  suffering  severely 
in  consequence.  •  We  furnished  a  set  of  questions,  and  obtained 
answers  from  the  whole.  Now,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  these 
men  were  under  no  obligation  whatever  to  mai<e  any  reply  to  our 
enquiries,  much  less  to  answer  them  favourably  to  our ,  plan,JroJf 
which  they  knew  next  to  nothing. 


:her  serious. 


iWILLINGNEBSITOTWORK.-; 


259x 


^^^ThcscTtwb'hunclred  and '  fifty  men  were  mostly  in  the.  prime  "of 
life,*^  the  greater  portion  of  them  being  >  skilled  '  Sv6rkiViert ;  *'  an 
^examination  of  the  return  papers  showine  that  out  of  the  chtire 
humbei'.  two  hundred  and  seven  were  able  to  work  at  their  trades 
had  they  the  opportunity.  > 

The  number  of  trades  "naturally  varied.';  There  were  some ^f  all 
kinds :  Engineers,  Custom  House  Officers,  Schoolmasters,  Watch' 
and  Clockmakers,  Sailors,  and  men  of  the  different  branches  of! 
the  Building  trade;  also  a  number  of  men  who  have  been  in 
business  oh  their  own  account. 

The  ■  average  amount  of  wages  earned  by  the  skilled  mechanics 
when  regularly  employed  was  33s.  per  week  :  the  money  earned  by 
the  unskilled  averaged  22s.  per  week. 

They  could  not  be  accounted  lazy,  as  most  of  them,  when  not 
employed  at  their  own  trade  or  occupation,  had  proved  their  willing- 
ness to  work  by  getting  jobs  at  anything  that  turned  up.  0:i  looking 
over  the  list  we  sav/  that  one  who  had  been  a  Custom  House  Officer 
had  recently  acted  as  Carpenter's  Labourer;  a  Type-founder  hnd 
been  glad  to  work  at  Chimney  Sweeping ;  the  Schoolmaster,  able  to 
f;peak  five  languages,  who  iv.  his  prosperous  days  had  owned  a  farm, 
was  glad  to  do  odd  jobs  as  a  Bricklayer's  Labourer ;  a  Gentleman's 
Valet,  wiio  once  earned  £$  a  week,  had  come  so  lov/  down  in  the 
world  that  he  was  glad  to  act  as  Sandwich  man  for  the  magnificent 
Gum  of  fourteenpence  a  day,  and  that,  only  as  an  occasional  affair. 
In  the  Hit  v/as  a  dyer  and  cleaner,  married,  with  a  wife  and  nine 
children,  \yho  had  been  able  to  earn  40s.  a  week,  but  had  done  no 
regular  \v/ork  for  three  years  out  of  the  last  ten. 

Wc  put  the  following  question  to  the  entire  number : — "  If  you 
were  ">m  on  a  farm,  and  set  to  work  at  anything  you  could  do, 
and  supplied  with  food,  lodging,  and  clothing,  with  a  view  to 
gettii  ;  you  on  to  your  feec,  would  you  be  willing  to  do  all  you 
could?" 

r^  response,  th-'  whole  250  replied  in  the  affirmative,  with  one 
exception,  and  on  enquiry  we  elicited  that,  being  a  sailor,  the 
man  was  afraid  he  would  not  know  how  to  do  the  work 

On  being  interrogated  as  to  their  willingness  to  grapple  with  the 
hard  labour  on  the  land,  they  said :  "  Why  should  we  not  ?  Look 
at  us.     Can  any  plight  be  more  miserable  tha.:  ours  ?" 

Why  not,  inf  ;eed  ?  A  glance  at  them  would  certainly  make  it 
impodiribb  for  any  thoughtful  [x:rson   to  assign  a  rational  reason 


•■\  !^ 


m 


M 


X'V  j 


u-r 


■    i 


260 


SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET.' 


for  their  refusal — in  rags,  swarming  with  vermin,  hungry,  many  of 
them  living  on  scraps  of  food,  begged  or  earned  in  the  most 
haphazard  fashion,  without  sufficient  clothing  to  cover  their  >  poor 
gaunt  limbs,  most  of  them  without  a  shirt.  They  had  to  start  out 
the  next  morning,  uncertain  which  way  to  turn  to  earn  a  crust  for 
dinner,  or  the  fourpence  necessary  to  supply  them  again  with  the 
humble  shelter  they  had  enjoyed  that  night.  The  idea  of  their 
r<;fusing  employment  which  would  supply  abundantly  the  necessaries 
of  life,  and  give  the  prospect  of  becoming,  in  process  of  time,  the  owner 
of  a  home,  with  its  comforts  and  companionships,  is  beyond  concep- 
tion. There  is  not  much  question  that  this  class  will  not  only  accept 
the  Scheme  we  want  to  set  before  them,  but  gratefully  do  all  in  their 
power  to  make  it  a  success. 
II. — Too  many  would  come. 

This  would  be  very  probable.  There  would  certainly  be  too  many 
apply.  But  we  should  be  under  no  obligation  to  take  more  than 
was  convenient.  The  larger  the  number  of  applications  the  wider 
the  field  for  selection,  and  the  greater  the  necessity  for  the  enlargement 
of  our  operations. 

III. — They  would  run  away. 

/It  is  further  objected  that  if  they  did  come,  the  monotony  of  the 
life,  the  strangeness  of  the  work,  together  with  the  absence  of  the 
excitements  and  amusements  with  which  they  had  been  entertained  in 
the  cities  and  towns,  would  render  their  existence  unbearable.  Even 
When  left  to  the  streets,  there  is  an  amount  of  life  and  action  in  the 
city  which  is  very  attractive.  Doubtless  some  would  run  away, 
but  I  don't  think  this  would  be  a  large  proportion.  The  change 
would  be  so  great,  and  so  palpably  advantageous,  that  I  think 
they  would  find  in  it  ample  compensation  for  the  deprivation  of 
any  little  pleasureable  excitement  they  had,  left,  behind  them  in 
the  city.  For  instance,  there  \v«ald  be — 
A  SufBciency  of  Food. 

The  friendliness  and  sympathy  of  their  new  assocsates. '  There  would  be 
abundance  of  companions  of  similar  tastes  and  circumstances — not 
all  pious.  \K  would  be  quite  another  matter  to  going  single-handed 
on  to  a  farm,  or  into  a  melancholy  family. 
Then  there  would  be  the  prospect  of  doing  well  for  themselves  in  the 
future,  together  with  all  the  religious  life,  meetings,  musics  and 
freedom  of  the  Salvation  Army. 
But:^What .  says  our  experiencej^'  ^ 


>  \ 


ymany  of 
the  most 
heir  V  poor 
I  start  out 
L  crust  for 
t  with  the 
I  of  their 
ecessaries 
the  owner 
d  concep- 
nly  accept 
ill  in  their 


too  many 
nore  than 
the  wider 
largement 


ly  of  the 
ce  of  the 
tained  in 
Even 
>n  in  the 
away, 
change 
I  think 
ation  of 
them  in 


n 


would  be 
ces — not 
handed 

:s  in  the 
sic^  and 


.  ■.;  I 


THEY    WOULD    RUN    AWAY? 


261 


If  tiicre  be  one  class  which  is  the  despair  of  the  social  reformer,  it 
is  that  which  is  variously  described,  but  which  we  may  term  the  lost 
women  of  our  streets.  From  the  point  of  view  of  the  industrial 
organiser,  they  suffer  from  almost  every  fault  that  human  material 
can  possess.  They  are,  with  some  exceptions,  untrained  to  labour, 
demoralised  by  a  life  of  debauchery,  accustomed  to  the  wildest 
license,  emancipated  from  all  discipline  but  that  of  starvation,  given 
to  drink,  and,  for  the  most  part,  impaired  in  4tcalth.  If,  therefore, 
any  considerable  number  of  this  class  can  be  shown  to  be  ready  to 
submit  themselves  voluntarily  to  discipline,  to  endure  deprivation 
of  drink,  and  to  apply  themselves  steadily  to  industry,  then  example 
will  go  a  long  way  towards  proving  that  even  the  worst  description 
of  humanity,  when  intelligently,  thoroughly  handled,  is  amenable  to 
discipline  and  willing  to  work.  ;  In  our  British  Rescue  Homes  we 
receive  considerably  over  a  thousand  unfortunates  every  year  ;  while 
all  over  the  world,  our  annual  average  is  two  thousand.  The  work 
has  been  in  progress  for  three  years — long  enough  to  enable  us  to 
test  very  fully  the  capacity  of  the  class  in  question  to  reform. 

With  us  there  is  no  compulsion.  If  any  girl  wishes  to  remain,  she 
remains.  If  she  wishes  to  go,  she  goes.  No  one  is  detained  a  day 
or  an  hour  longer  than  they  choose  to  stay.  Yet  our  experience 
shows  that,  as  a  rule,  they  do  not  run  away.  Much  more  restless 
ind  thoughtless  and  given  to  change,  as  a  class,  than  men,  the 
girls  do  not,  in  any  considerable  numbers,  desert.  The  average 
of  our  London  Homes^  for  the  last  three  years,  gives  only  14  per 
cent,  as  leaving  on  therr  own  account,  while  for  the  year  1889 
only  5  per  cent.  And  the  entire  number,  who  have  either  left 
or  been  dismissed'  during  that  year,  amounts  only  to  13  per  cent, 
on  the  whole. 

IV. — They  would  not  work. 

Of  course,  to  such  as  had  for  year's  been  leading  idle  lives, 
anything  like  work  and  exhaustive  labour  would  be  very 
trying  and  wearisome,  and  a  little  patience  and  coaxing  might  be 
required  to  get  them  into  the  way  of  it.  Perhaps  some  would  De 
hopelessly  beyond  salvation  in  this  respect,  and,  until  the  time  comes, 
if  it  ever  does  arrive,  when  the  Government  will  make  it  a  crime 
for  an  abled-bodied  man  to  beg  when  there  is  an  opportunity  for 
him  to  engage  in  remunerative  work,  this  class  will  wander  abroad 
preying  upon  a  generous  public.  It  will,  however,  only  need  to  be 
knowiL- that. any_ man  can  obtain  work.  if„  he  -wants^it.^ox^those 


'\\' 


r  1'  ^ 

nil!-  i 

''ill 
% 

■;'■  i 


1- 


'I 


i.ii 


'T  'g'-.t^'ag;  - 


m^mms^^ 


wmm 


IM 


262. 


SOME   OBJECTIONS    MET. 


■  I 


who'haye  by  their  liberality  maintained  men  and  women  in  idle- 
ness  to*  cease  doing  so.  And  when-  it  comes  to  this  pass,  that  p. 
man  cannot  eat  without  working,  of  the  two  evils  he  will  choose  thu: 
latter,  preferring  labour,  however  unpleasant  it  may  be  to  his 
tastes,  to  actual  starvation. 

It  must  be  borne  i'n  mind  that  the  penalty  of  certain  expulsion, 
which  all  would  be  given  to  understand  would  be  strictly  enforced 
would  have  a  good  influence  in  inducing  the'  idlest  to  give  work  a  fair 
trial,  and  once  at  it  I  should  not  despair  of  conquering  the  aver- 
sion altogether,  and  eventually  being  able  to  transform  and  pass 
these  once  lazy  loafers  as  real  industrious  members  of  Society. 

Again,  any  who  have  fears  on  this  point  may  be  encouraged 
by  contrasting  the  varied  and  ^ver-changing  methods  of  labour  we 
should  pursue,  with  the  monotonous  and  uninteresting  grind  of  many 
of  the  ordinary  employments  of  the  poor,  and  the  circumstances  b}' 
which  they  are  surrounded.      . 

Here,  again,  we  fall  back  upon  our  actual  experience  in  reclamation 
work;  In  our  Homes  for  Saving  the  Lost  Women  we  have  no 
difficulty  of  getting  them  to  work.  The  idleness  of  this  section  of 
the  social  strata  has  been  before  referred  to ;  it  is  not  for  a  moment 
denied,  and  there  can  be  no  question,  as  to  its  being  the  cause  of 
much  of  their  poverty  and  distress.  But  from  early  morn  until  the 
lights  are  out  at  night,  all  is  a  round  of  busy,  and,  to  a  great  extent, 
very  uninteresting  labour  ;  while  the  girls  have,  as  a  human  induce- 
ment, only  domestic  service  to  look  forward  to — of  "'hich  they  arc 
in  no  way  particularly  enamoured — and  yet  here  is  no  mutiny,  no 
objection,  no  unwillingness  to  work ;  in  fact  they  appear  well 
pleased  to  be  kept  continually  at  it.  Here  is  a  report  that  teaches 
the  same  lesson. 

A  small  Bookbinding  Factory  is  worked  in  connection  with  the  Rescue  Homes 
in  London.  The  foldero  and  stitchers  are  girls  saved  from  the  streets,  but  who, 
for  various  reasons,  were  found  unsuitable  foi  domestic  service.  ^  The  Factory 
has  solved  the  problem  of  employment  for  some  of  the  most  difficult  cases. 
Two  of  the  girls  at  present  employed  there  are  crippled,  while  one  is  supporting 
herself  and  two  young  children. 

While  learning  the  work  they  live  in  the  Rescue  Homes,  and^e  fev/ 
shillings  they  are  able  to  earn  are  paid  into  the  Home  funds.  As  soon^as  they 
are  able  to  earn  12s.  a  week,  a  lodging  is  foun^for  them  (with  Salvationists,  if 
possible),  and  they  are  placed  entirely  upon  their  own  resources.  The  majority 
of  girls  working  at  this  trade  in  London  are  living  in  the  family,  and  6s.,  7s.,  and 
8s.  a  week  make  an  acceptable  addition  to  the  Home  income :  but  our  girls  w>io 


■i; 


WOULD    THEY    HAVE  THE     PHYSIQUE? 


263 


It  extent, 


arc  ^«///r()'  dependent  upon  tlieir  own  earnings  must  maUc  an  average  wage  ot 
I2S.  a  week  at  least.  In  order  that  they  may  do  tliis  we  are  obliged  to  pay 
higher  wages  than  other  employers.  For  instance,  we  give  from  2jd.  to  3d.  a 
thousand  more  than  the  trade  for  binding  small  pamphlets  ;  nevertheless,  after 
the  Manager,  a  married  man.  is  paid,  and  a  man  for  the  superintendence  of  the 
machines,  a  profit  of  about  ;^5oo  has  been  made,  and  the  work  is  improving. 
They  are  all  ^;i.\(l  piecework. 

Eighteen  women  are  supporting  themselves  in  this  way.at  present,  and  con- 
ducting themselves  most  admirably.  One  of  their  number  acts  as  forewoman, 
and  conducts  the  Prayer  Meeting  at  12.30,  the  Two-minutes'  Prayer  after  meals, 
etc.  Their  continuance  in  the  factory  is  subject  to  their  good  behaviour — both 
at  home  as  well  as  at  work.  In  one  instance  only  have  we  It  ad  any  trouble  at 
all,  and  in  this  solitary  case  the  girl  was  so  penitent  she  was  forgiven,  and  has 
Hone  well  ever  since.  I  think  that,  without  exception,  they  arc  Salvation 
Soldiers,  and  will  be  found  at  nearly  every  meeting  on  the  Sabbath,  etc.  The 
binding  of  Salvation  Army  publications — "The  Deliverer,"  "All  the  World," 
the  Penny  Song  Books,  etc.,  almost  keep  us  going.  A  little  outside  work  for  the 
end  of  the  months  is  taken,  but  we  are  not  able  to  make  any  j)rofit  generally,  it 
is  so  badly  paid. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  is  a  miniature  factory,  but  still  it  is  a 
factory,  and  worked  on  principles  that  will  admit  of  illimitable 
extension,  and  may,  I  think,  be  justly  regarded  as  an  encouragement  and 
an  exemplification  of  what  may  be  accomplished  in  endless  variations. 

V. — Again,  it  is  objected  that  the  class  whose  benefit  we  contemplate 
would  not  have  physical  ability  to  work  on  a  farm,  or  in  the  open  air. 

How,  it  is  asked,  would  tailors,  clerks,  weavers,  seamstresses 
and  the  destitute  people,  born  and  reared  in  the  slums  and  poverty- 
hovels  of  the  towns  and  cities,  do  farm  or  any  other  work  that  has 
to  do  with  the  land  ?  The  employment  in  the  open  air,  with 
exposure  to  every  kind  of  weather  which  accompanies  it,  would."  it 
is  said,  kill  them  off  right  away. 

We  reply,  that  the  division  of  labour  before  described  would 
render  it  as  unnecessary  as  it  would  be  undesirable  and  uneco- 
nomical, to  put  many  of  these  people  to  dig  or  to  plant.  Neither 
is  it  any  part  of  our  plan  to  do  so.  On  our  Scheme  we  have 
shown  how  each  one  would  be  appointed  to  that  kind  of  work  for 
which  his  previous  knowledge  and  experience  and  strength  best 
adapted  him. 

Moreover,  there  can  be  no  possible  comparison  between  1  the 
conditions  of  health  enjoyed  by  men  and  women  .wanderine  jabout 


M' 


i  i 


r 


s 


M. 


ii)>' 


'.  I'll  ■ 


-.(: 


m 
1 

% 
1 


-& 


U '. 


f>A4! 


rSOME   OBJECTIONS    MET: 


l!  I 

li!! 


homelessj'^sleeping  in'^the  streets  or  in 'the  fever-haunted  lodging- 
houses,  or  Jiving  huddled  up  in  a  single  room,  and  toiling  twelve 
and  fourteen  hours  in  a  sweater's  den,  andpiving  in, comparative 
comfort  in  well-warmed  and  ventilated  houses,"  situated  in  the  open 
country,  with  abundance  of  good,  healthy  food. 

Take  a  man  or  a  woman  out  into  the  fresh  air,  give  them  proper 
exercise,  and  substantial  food.  ,.  Supply  them  with  a  comfortable' 
home,  cheerful-  companions,  and  a  fair  prospect  of  reachin/?  a  position 
of  independence  in  this  or  some  other  land,  and  a  complete:  renewal 
of  health  and  careful  increase  of  vigour  will,  we  expect,  be  one 
of  the  first  great  benefits  that  will  ensue. 

VI. — //  is  objected  that  we  should  be  left  with  a  considerable  resiauwn 
of  half-witted^  helpless  people. 

Doubtless  this  would  be  a  real  difficulty,  and  we  should  have  lo 
prepare  for  it.  We  certainly,  at  the  outset,  should  have  to 
guard  against  too  many  of  this  class  being  left  upon  -  our 
hands,  although  we  should  not  be  compelled  to  keep  anyone. 
It  would,  however,  be  painful  to  have  to  send  them  back  to 
the  dreadful  life  from  which  we  had  resciK '  them.  Still, 
hcwever,  this  would  not  be  so  ruinous  a  .  isk,  looked  at 
Snancially,  as  some  would  imagine.  We  could,  we  think,  maintain 
thsm  for  4s.  per  v/eek,  and  they  would  be  very  weak  indeed  in 
body,  and  very  wanting  in  mental,  strength  if  they  were  not  able 
to  earn  that  amount  in  some  one  of  the  many  forms  of  employment . 
which  the  Colony  would  open  up. 

VII. — Again,  it  will  be  objected  that  some  efforts  of  a  similar 
character  have  failed.  For  instance,  co-operative  enterprises  in  farm- 
ing have  not  succeeded. 

True,  but  so  far  as  I  can  ascertain,  nothing  of  the  character  I 
am  describing  has  ever  been  attempted.V^A  large  number  of 
Socialistic  communities  have  been  established  and  come  to  grief 
in  the  United  States,  in  Germany,  and  elsewhere,  but  they  have 
all,  both  in  principle  and  practice,  strikingly  differed  from  what 
we  are  proposing  here.  Take  one  particular  alone,  the  great 
bulk  of  these  liocieties  have  not  only  been  fashioned  without  any 
regard  to  the  principles  of  Christianity,  but,  in  the  vast  majority 
of  instances,  have  been  in  direct  opposition  to  them ;  and  the 
only  communities  based  on  co-operative  principles  that  have  sur- 
(Vived  the  first  few  months  of  their  existence  have  been  based 
)ip(m :  Christian  truth.    If_  not  absolute  successes,^there ,  have  ^been! 


WILL    THEY    SUBMIT    TO    DISCIPLINE  7 


265 


some  very  remarkable  results  obtained  by  efforts  partaking  some- 
what of  the  nature  of  the  one  I  am  setting  forth.  (See  that  of 
Ralahine,  described  in  Appendix.) 

VIII. — //  is  further  objected  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  maintain 
order  and  enforce  good  discipline  amongst  this  class  of  people 

We  are  of  just  the  opposite  opinion.  We  think  that  it  would — 
nay,  we  are  certain  of  it,  and  we  speak  as  those  who  have  had 
considerable  experience  in  dealing  with  the  lower  classes  of 
Society.  We  have  already  dealt  with  this  difficulty.  We  may  say 
further--. 

That  we  ao  not  propose  to  commence  with  a  thousand  people 
in  a  v/ild,  untamed  state,  either  at  home  or  abroad.  To  the 
Colony  Over-Sea  we  should  send  none  but  those  who  have  had  a 
long  period  of  training  in  this  country.  The  bulk  of  those  sent 
to  the  Provincial  Farm  would  have  had  some  sort  of  trial  in  the 
different  City  Establishments.  We  should  only  draft  4;them  on  to 
the  Estate  in  small-  numbers,  as  we  were  prepared  to  deal  with 
them,  and  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  without  the  legal  methods  of 
maintaining  order  that  are  acted  upon  so  freely  in  workhouses 
and  other  similar  institutions,  we  should  have  as  perfect  obedience 
to  Law,  as  great  respect  for  authority,  and  as  strong  a  spirit  of 
kindness  pervading  all  ranks  throughout  the  whole  of  the  com- 
munity as  could  be  found  in  any  other  institution  in  the  land. 

It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  our  Army  system  of  government 
largely  prepares  us,  if  it  does  not  qualify  us,  for  this  task.  Ahyvvay, 
it  gives  us  a  good  start.  All  our  people  are  trained  in  habits  of 
obedience,  and  all  our  Officers  are  educated  in  the  exercise  of 
authority.  The  Officers  throughout  the  Colony  would  be  almost 
exclusively  recruited  from  the  ranks  of  the  Army,  and  everyone  of 
them  would  go  to  the  work,  both  .theoretically  and  practically, 
familiar  with  those  principles  which  are  the  essence  of  good 
discipline. 

Then  we  can  argue,  and  that  very  forcibly,  from  the  actual 
experience  we  have  already  had  in  dealing  with  this  class.  Take 
our  experience  in  the  Army  itself.  Look  at  the  order  of  our  Soldiers. 
Here  are  men  and  women,  who  have  no  temporal  interest  whatever 
at  stake,  receiving  no  remuneration,  often  sacrificing  their  earthly 
interests  by  their  union  with  us,  and  yet  see  how  they  fall  into  line, 
and  obey  orders  in  the  promptest  manner,  even  when  such  orders 
go  right.. in. the Xeeth. of. their  temppraL int£r.esJts. 


I' 


t 


liyi 


"».T- 


rjw^m 


XAl...K^l 


wm 


266 


SOME    OBJECTIONS   MET. 


m  ! 


"Yes,"  it  will  be  replied  by  some,  "this  is  all  very  excellent 
80  far  as  it  relates  to  those  who  are  altogether  of  your  own  way  of 
thinking.  You  can  command  them  as  you  please,  and  they  v/ill 
obey,  but  what  proof  have  you  given  of  your  ability  to  control  and 
discipline  those  who  are  not  of  your  way  of  thinking  ? 

"  You  can  do  that  with  your  Salvationists  because  they  arc  save', 
ns  you  call  it.  When  men  are  born  again  you  can  do  anything  v/'th 
them.  But  unless  you  convert  all  the  denizens  of  Darkest  England, 
what  chance  is  there  that  they  v/ill  be  docile  to  your  discipline  ?  If 
they  were  soundly  saved  no  doubt  something  might  be  done.  But 
they  are  not  saved,  soundly  or  otherwise ;  they  are  lost.  VJhrJ. 
reason  have  you  for  believing  that  they  will  be  amenable  tc 
discipline?" 

I  admit  the  force  of  this  objection  ;  b  i  •!  liave  an  answer,  and  en 
answer  which  seems  to  me  complete.  Discipline,  and  that  of  the 
most  merciless  description,  is  enforced  upon  multitudes  of  thece 
people  even  now.  Nothing  that  the  most  authoritative  organisation 
of  industry  could  devise  in  the  excess  of  absolute  power,  could 
for  a  moment  compare  with  the  slavery  enforced  to-day  in  the  den.s 
of  the  sweater.  It  is  not  a  choice  between  liberty  and  discipline  tha' 
confronts  these  unfortunates,  but  between  discipline  mercilessly 
enforced  by  starvation  and  inspired  by  futile  gi'eed,  and  discipline 
accompanied  with  regular  rations  and  administered  solely  for  their 
own  benefit.  What  liberty  is  there  for  the  tailors  who  have  to  sew 
for  sixteen  to  twenty  hours  a  day,  in  a  pest-holc,  in  order  to  earn 
ten  shillings  a  week  ?  There  is  no  discipline  so  brutal  as  that  of  the 
sweater ;  there  is  no  slavery  so  relentless  as  that  from  which  we 
seek  to  deliver  the  victims.  Compared  with  their  normal  condition 
of  existence,  the  most  rigorous  discipline  which  would  be  needed 
to  secure  the  complete  success  of  any  new  individual  organisation 
would  be  an  escape  from  slavery  into  freedom. 

You  may  reply,  "  that  it  might  be  so,  if  people  understood  their  own 
interest.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  do  not  understand  it,  and  that 
they  will  never  have  sufficient  far-sightedness  to  appreciate  the 
advantages  that  are  offered  them." 

To  this  I  answer,  that  here  also  I  do  not  speak  from  theory. 
I  lay  before  you  the  ascertained  results  of  years  of  experience. 
More  than  two  years  ago,  moved  by  the  misery  and  despair 
of  the  unemployed,  I  opened  the  Food  and  Shelter  Dep6ts  in 
London  already  described.       Here  are  a  large  number  of  men 


vp 


18  THE   SCHEME   TOO    BIG  T 


y  excellent 
wn  way  of 
I  they  v/ill 
:ontrol  and 

arc  Sii\  (-".', 
yth-'ng  v/'tb 
St  England; 
ipline  ?  If 
done.  Bui 
ost.  W1t.1 
menablc    tc 

ver,  and  z-x 
that  of  the 
es  of  thecti 
Drganisaticn 
ower,  could 
in  the  den.-3 
scipline  thiJ 
mercilessly 
jd  disciplin 
lely  for  their 
have  to  sew 
>rder  to  earn 
IS  that  of  the 
n  which  we 
lal  condition 
1  be  needed 
organisation 

)d  their  own 
1  it,  and  that 
tpreciate  the 

from  theory, 
experience, 
and  despair 
•  Dep6ts  in 
ber  of  men 


every  night,  many  of  them  of  the  lov/cst  type  of  casuals  who 
crawl  about  the  streets,  a  certain  proportion  criminals,  and 
about  as  diflicult  a  class  to  manage  as  I  should  think  could  be 
ifot  together,  and  while  there  will  be  200  of  them  in  a  single 
building  night  after  night,  from  the  first  opening  of  the  doors  in  the 
evening  until  the  last  man  has  departed  in  the  morning,  there  shall 
scarcely  be  a  word  of  dissatisfaction  ;  anyway,  nothing  in  the  shape 
of  angry  temper  or  bad  languaije.  No  policemen  are  required ; 
indeed  two  or  three  nights'  experience  v/ill  be  sufficient  to  turn  the 
regular  frequenters  of  the  place  of  their  own  free  will  into  Officers 
of  Order,  glad  not  only  to  keep  the  regulations  of  the  place,  but  to 
enforce  its  discipline  upon  others. 

Again,  every  Colonist,  whether  in  the  City  6r  elsewhere,  would 
know  that  those  who  took  the  interests  of  the  Colony  to  heart, 
were  loyal  to  its  authority  and  principles,  and  laboured  indus- 
triously in  promoting  its  interests,  would  be  rewarded  accordingly 
by  promotion  to  positions  of  influence  and  authority,  which 
would  also  carry  with  them  temporal  advantages,  present  and 
prospective. 

But  one  oi  our  main  hopes  would  be  in  the  apprehension  by  the 
Colonists  of  the  fact  that  all  our  efforts  were  put  forth  on  their 
behalf.  Every  man  and  woman  on  the  place  would  know 
that  this  enterprise  was  begun  and  carried  on  solely  for  their 
benefit,  and  that  of  the  other  members  of  their  class,  and  that 
only  their  own  good  behaviour  and  co-operation  would  ensure 
their  reaping  a  personal  share  in  such  benefit.  Still  our  expectations 
would  be  largely  based  on  the  creation  of  a  spirit  of  unselfish 
interest  in  the  community. 

IX.  Again,  it  is  objected  that  the  Scheme  is  too  vast  to  be  attempted  by 
voluntary  enterprise;  it  ought  to  be  taken  up  and  carried  out  by 
the  Government  itself. 

Perhaps  so,  but  there  is  no  very  near  pt  obability  of  Government 
undertaking  it,  and  we  are  not  quite  sure  whether  such  an  attempt 
would  prove  a  success  if  it  were  made.  But  seeing  that  neither 
Governments,  nor  Society,  nor  individuals  have  stood  forward  to 
undertake  what  God  has  made  appear  to  us  to  be  so  vitally  impor- 
tant a  work,  and  as  He  has  given  us  the  willingness,  and  in  many 
important  senses  the  ability,  we  arc  prepared,  if  the  financial  help 
is  furnished,  to  make  a  determined  effort,  not  only  to  undertake  but 
.tofiaymXit  forwsytd  to.  a  triumphant  success,. 


I 


I. 


!.: 


1^ 


;■  ; 


lir  I 


!.•■■! 


J 


^B^m 


H^ 


268 


SOME    OBJEpTfONSMVIET. 


I     i 


i!' 


!l! 


.  X.— //  is  objected  thai  the  classes  ive  seek  to  benefit  are  too 
ignorant  and  depraved  for  Christian  efforif  or  for  effoti  of  any  kind,  to 
reach,  and  reform. — 

Look  at  the  tramps,  the  drunkards^ the  harlots,  the  criminals*  liow 
confirmed  they  are  in  their  idle  and  vicious  habits.  It  will  \:'i  said, 
indeed  has  been  already^  said  by,?;  those  with  whom  I  have  con- 
versed, that  I  don't  know  them:  which  statement  cannot,  I. think, 
be  maintained,  for  if  I  don't  know  them,' who  does  ? 

I  admit,  however,  that  thousands  of  this  class' are  very,  far  gone 
from  every  sentiment,  principle ,  and  practice  of  r'ght  conduct.^ 
But :  I  argue  that  these  poor  i  people  cannot  the ..  much  more 
unfavourable  subjects  for  the  work  of  regeneration  than  are  many 
of  the  savages  and  heathen  tribes,  in  the  conversion  of ^whom 
Christians  universally  believe ;  for  whom  they  beg  large  sums 
of  money,  and  to  whom  they  send  their  best  and  bravest  people. 

These  poor  people  are  certainly  embraced  in  the  Divine  plan  of 
mercy.  To  their  class,  the  Saviour  especially  gave  His  attention  when 
he  was  on  the  earth,  and  for  them  He  most  certainly  died  on  the  Cross: 

Some  of  the  best  examples  of  Christian  faith  and  practice,*  and 
some  of  the  most  successful  workers  for  the  benefit  of  mankind,- 
have  sprung  from  this  class,  of  which  we  have  instances  STe- 
corded  in  the  Bible,  and  any  number,  in  the  history.,  of  the  Church 
and  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

It  may  be  objected  that  while"' this  Scheme, would  undoubtedly 
assist  one  class  of  the  community  by  making  steady,Mndustriougi 
workmen,  it  must  thereby  injui;-e  another  class  by  introducing  so  many 
"ew  hands  into  the  labour  marlcet,  already  so  seriously  overstocked.  ^ 

To  this  we  reply  that  there  is  certainly  an  appearance  of  force  in 
this/ objection  ;  but  it  has,  I  think,  been  already  answered  in  the' fore- 
going pages.  Further,  if  the  increase  of  workers,  which  this  Scheme 
will  certainly  bring  about,  was  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  -it,  it 
would  certainly  present  a  somewhat  serious  aspect.  But,  'even  on 
that  supposition,  I  don't  see  how  the  skilled  worker  could  leave  his 
brothers  to  rot  in  their  present  wretchedness,  though  their  rescue 
should  involve  the  sharing  of  a  portion  of  his  wages. 

(i)  But  there  is  no  such  danger,  seeing  that  the  numbe#of  extra 
hands  thrown  on  the  British  Labour  Market  must  be  lie'cessarily 
inconsiderable. 

(2)  The  increased  production  of  food  in  our  Farm  and.  Colonial/ 
operations  must  indirec  ^  benefit  the  working  man.' 


DRAINING   LABOUR    MARKETS. 


369 


(3)  The  taking  out  of  the  labour  market  of  a  large  number  of 
individuals  who  at  present  have  only  partial  workj*  while  benefiting 
tliem,  must  of  necessity  affcrd  increased  labour  to  those  left  behind. 

(4)  While  every  poor  workless  individual  made  into  a  wage  earner 
will  of  necessity  have  increased  requirements  in  proportion.  For 
instance,  the  drunkard  who  has  had  to  manage  with  a  few  bricks,  a 
soap  box,  and  a  bundle  of  rags,  will  want  a  chair,  a  table,  a  bed,  and 
at  least  the  other  necessary  adjuncts  to  a  furnished  home,  however 
sparely  fitted  up  it  may  be. 

There  is  no  question  but  that  when  our  Colonisation  Scheme  is 
fairly  afloat  it  will  drain  off,  not  only  many  of  those  who  are  in  the 
morass,  but  a  large  number  who  are  on  the  verge  of  it.  Nay,  even 
artisans,  earning  what  are  considered  good  wages,  will  be  drawn  by 
the  desire  to  improve  their  circumstances,  or  'O  raise  their  children 
under  more  favour  ble  surroundings,  or  from  suU  nobler  motives,  to 
leave  the  old  country.  Then  it  is  expected  that  the  agricultural 
labourer  and  the  village  artisan,  who  are  ever  migrating  to  the  great 
towns  and  cities,  will  give  the  preference  to  the  Colony  Over-Sea, 
and  so  prevent  that  accumulation  of  cheap  labour  which  is  considered 
to  interfere  so  materially  with  the  maintenance  of  a  high  wages 
standard. 


8 


ill 


:  r '  t 


i  1: 


■^"''-i,;^  ii,»..i^u-»j» 


Section  5.— RECAPITULATION. 

I  have  now  passed  in  review  the  leading  features  of  the 
Scheme,  which  I  put  forward  as  one  that  is  calculated  to  considerably 
contribute  to  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  lowest 
stratum  of  our  Society.  It  in  no  way  professes  to  be  complete 
in  all  its  details.  Anyone  may  at  any  point  lay  his  finger  on 
this,  that,  or  the  other  feature  of  the  Scheme,  and  show  some 
void  that  must  be  filled  in  if  it  is  to  work  with  effect.  There  is 
one  thing,  however,  that  can  be  safely  said  in  excuse  for  the 
shortcoming^  of  the  Scheme,  and  that  is  that  if  you  wait  until 
you  get  an  ideally  perfect  plan  you  will  have  to  wait  until  the 
Millennium,  and  then  you  will  not  need  it.  My  suggestions,  crude 
though  they  may  be,  have,  nevertholess,  one  element  that  will  in 
time  supply  all  deficiencies.  There  is  life  in  them,  with  life  there 
is  the  promise  and  power  of  adaptation  to  all  the  innumerable 
and  varying  circumstances  of  the  class  with  which  we  have  to 
deal.  Where  there  ici  life  there  is  infinite  power  of  adjustment. 
This  is  no  cast-iron  Scheme,  forged  in  a  single  brain  anc!  then  set 
up  as  a  standard  to  which  all  must  conform.  It  is  a  sturdy  plant, 
which  has  its  roots  deep  down  in  the  nature  and  circuiiiotcYOccs  Ot 
men.  Nay,  I  believe  ir.  tho  very  heart  of  God  Himself.  li  has 
already  grown  much,  and  will,  if  duily  nurtured  and  tended,  grow 
still  further,  until  from  it,  as  from  the  grain  of  fuustard-seed  in 
the  parable,  there  shall  spring  up  a  greri  tree  whose  branches 
shall  overshadow  all  the  eaith. 

Once  more  let  me  say,  I  claim  no  patent  rights  in  any  part  of  this 
Scheme.  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  what  in  it  is  original  and  what  is  not. 
Since  formulating  some  of  the  plans,  wnich  I  had  thought  were  new 
under  the  sun,  I  have  discovered  that  they  have  been  already  tried 
in  different  parts  of  the  world,  and  that  with  great  promise.  It  may 
be  so  with  others,  and  in  this  I  rejoice.   I   plead   for  no  exclusive-^ 


mmm 


HAVE    YOU    A    BETTER    PLAN  . 


2  71 


ires    of  the 
considerably 

the  lowest 
36  complete 
s  finger  on 
show  some 
:.  There  is 
use  for   the 

wait  until 
t  until  the 
tions,  crude 
that  willin 
h  life  there 
nnumcrabk 
^e  have  to 
adjustment, 
inc!  then  set 
turdy  piantj 
nUcmcxs  Ot 
)lf.  li  has 
nded,  gro'wV 
ird-seed  in 
e  branches 

part  of  this 
what  is  not. 
t  were  new 
ready  tried 
e.  It  may 
exclusive- 


ness.  The  question  is  much  too  serious  for  such  fooling  as 
that.  Here  are  millions  of  our  fellovz-creatures  perishing 
amidst  the  breakers  of  the  sea  of  life,  dashed  to  pieces 
on  sharp  rocks,  sucked  under  by  eddying  whirlpools,  suffo- 
cated even  when  they  think  they  have  reached  land  by  treachcious 
quicksands ;  to  save  them  from  this  imminent,  destruction  I  suggest 
that  these  things  should  be  done.  If  you  have  any  better  plan  than 
mine  for  effecting  this  purpose,  in  God's  name  bring  it  to  the  light 
and  get  it  carried  out  quickly.  If  you  have  not,  then  lend  me  a 
hand  with  mine,  as  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  lend  you  a  hand  with 
yours  if  it  had  in  it  greater  promise  of  successful  action  than  mine. 

In  a  Scheme  for  the  working- out  of  social  salvation  the  great,  the 
only,  test  that  is  worth  anything  is  the  success  with  which  they 
attain  the  object  for  which  they  are  devised.     An  ugly  old  tub  of 
a  boat  that  will  land  a  shipwrecked  sailer  safe  on  the  beach  is  v/orth 
more  to  him  than  the  finest  yacht  that  ever  left  a  slip-way  incapable 
of  effecting  the  same  object.     The  superfine  votaries  of  culture  may 
recoil  in  disgust  from,  the  rough-and-ready  suggestions  which  I  have 
made  for  dealing  with  the  Sunken  Tenth,  but  mere  recoiling  is  no 
soh'tion.      If  the  cultured   and   the   respectable  and   the  orthodox 
and   the   established   dignitaries    and   conventionalities    of  Society 
pass    by    on    the    other    side    we    cannot   follow   their  examplo.. 
We    may    not    be     priests    and    Levites,  but    we    can    at    Us-p^ 
play  the    part   of   the    Good   Samaritan.      The    man    who    f^^jrf 
down   to  Jericho  and    fell   among    thieves   was 
improvident,    reckless     individual,     who    ought 
better  than  to  go  roaming  alone  through  defiles  h    jnted  by  ban 
v^'hom  he  even  led  into  temptation  by  the  caielei>3  way  in  whic' 
exposed  himself  and  his  goods  to  their  avaricious  gaze,     it  was, 
doubt,  largely  his  own  fault  that  he  lay  there  bruised  and  senseless^ 
and  ready  to  perish,  just  as  it  is  largely  thp  fault  of  those  v;hom  we 
seek  to  help  that  they  lie  in  the  helpless  plight  in  which  we  find 
them.     But  for  all  that,  let  us  bind  up  their  wounds  with  such  balm 
as  we  can  procure,  and,  setting  them  on  our  ass,  let  us  take  them  to 
our  Colony,  where  tliey  may  have  time  to  recover,  and  once  more  set 
forth  on  the  journey  of  life. 

And  now,  having  said  this  much  by  way  of  reply  to  some  of  my 
critics,  I  will  recapitulate  the  salient  features  of  the  Scheme.  I  laid 
down  at  the  beginning  cf^!  tain  points  to  be  kept  in  view  as  embodying 
those  invariable  laws  or  principles  of  political  economy, .without  due 


probably  a  ly<  ^ 
to    have    k 


t  ii  'J  ! 


Lli::ii! 


m 


■*■■'" 


272 


RECAPITUUATIOM. 


regard  to  which  no  Scheme  can  hope  for  even  a  chance  of  success. 
Subject  to  these  conditions,  I  think  my  Scheme  will  pass  muster.  It 
is  large  enough  to  cope  with  the  evils  that  will  confront  us ;  it  is 
practicable,  for  it  is  already  in  course  of  applicatiovi,  and  it  is  capable 
of  indefinite  expansion.  But  it  would  be  better  to  pass  the  whole 
Scheme  in  its  more  salient  features  in  review  once  more. 

The  Scheme  will  seek  to  convev  benefit  to  the  destitute  classes  in 
various  ways  altogether  apart  from  their  entering  the  Colonies.  Men 
and  women  may  be  very  poor  and  in  very  great  sorrow,  nay,  on 
the  verge  of  actual  starvation,  and  yet  be  so  circumstanced  as  to  be 
unable  to  enrjol  themselves  in  the  Colonial  ranks.  To  these 
our  cheap  Food  Depots,  our  Advice  Bureau,  Labour  Shops,  and 
other  agencies  will  prove  an  unspeakable  boon,  and  will  be  likelj^ 
by  such  temporary  assistance  to  help  them  out  of  the  deep  gulf  in 
which  they  are  struggling.  Those  wno  need  permanent  assistance 
will  be  passed  on  to  the  City  Colonj^  and  taken  directly  under  our 
control.  Here  they  will  be  employed  as  before  descrijbed.  Many 
will  be  sent  off  to  friends  ;  work  will  be  found  for  others  in  the  City 
or  elsewhere,  while  the  great  bulk,  after  reasonable  testing  as  to 
their  sincerity  and  willingness  to  assist  in  their  own  salvation,  will 
be  sent  on  to  the  Farm  Colonies,  where  the  same  process  of 
reformation  and  training  will  be  continued,  and  unless  employment 
is  otherwise  obtained  they  will  then  be  'nassed  on  to  the  Over-Sea 
Colony. 

All  in  circumstances  of  destitution,  vice,  or  criminality  will  receive 
casual  assistance  or  be  taken  into  the  Colony,  on  the  sole  conditions 
of  their  being  anxious  for  deliverance,  and  willing  to  work  for  it, 
and  to  conform  to  discipline,  altogether  irrespective  of  character, 
ability,  religious  opinions,  or  anything  else. 

No  benefit  will  be  conferred  upon  any  individual  except  under 
extraordinary  circumstances,  without  ,some  return  being  made  in 
labour.  Even  where  relatives  and  friends  supply"  money  to  the 
Colonists,  the  latter  must  take  their  share  of  work  with  their 
comrades.  We  shall  not  have  room  for  a  single  idler  throughout  all 
uur  borders. 

^he  labour  allotted  to  each  individual  will  be  chosen  in  view  of  his 
past  employment  or  ability.  Those  who  have  any  knowledge  of 
agriculture  will  naturally  be  put  to  work  on  the  land ;  the  shoemaker 
will  make  shoes,  the  weaver  cloth,  and  so  on.  And  when  there  is  no 
knowledge  of  any  handicraft,  the  aotitude  of  the  individuaLand^th^ 


^mmmmm 


HAND  LABOUR. 


27i> 


f  success, 
iswcr.  It 
us ;  it  is 
is  capable 
the  whole 

classes  in 
es.  Men 
r,  nay,  on 
[  as  to  be 
To  these 
lops,  and 
be  likelj^ 
ep  gulf  in 
issistancc 
jnder  our 
1.     Many 

I  the  City 
ng  as  to 
ition,  will 
rocess  of 
ployment 
Over-Sea 

II  receive 
onditions 
rk  for  it, 
haracter, 

)t  under 
made  in 
to  the 
1th  their 
ghout  all 

:w  of  his 
ledge  of 
oemaker 
lere  is  no 
anduJhQ 


necessities  of  the  hour  will  suggest  the  sort  of  work  it  would  be 
most  profitable  for  such  an  one  to  learn. 

Work  of  all  descriptions  will  be  executed  as  far  as  possible  by 
hand  labour.  The  present  rage  for  machinery  has  tended  to  pro- 
duce much  destitution  by  supplanting  hand  labour  so  exclusively 
that  the  rush  has  been  from  the  human  to  the  machine.  We  "ant, 
as  far  as  is  pr. /- cicable,  to  travel  back  from  the  machine  to  the 
human. 

Each  member  of  the  Colony  would  receive  food,  clothing,  lodging, 
medicine,  and  all  necessary  care  in  case  of  sickness. 

No  wages  would  be  paid,  except  a  trifle  by  way  of  encouragement 
for  good  behaviour  and  industry,  or  to' those  occupying  positions  of 
trust,  part  of  which  will  be  saved  in  view  of  exigencies  in  our  Colonial 
Bank,  and  the  remainder  used  for  pocuet  money. 

The  whole  Scheme  of  the  three  Colonies  will  for  all  practical 
purposes  be  regarded  as  one ;  hence  the  training  will  have  in  view 
the  qualification  of  the  Colonists  for  ultimately  earning  their 
livelihood  in  the  world  altogether  independently  of  our  assistance, 
or,  failing  this,  fit  them  for  taking  some  permanent  work  within  our 
borders  either  at  home  or  abroad. 

Another  result  of  this  unity  of  the  Town  and  Country  Colonies 
will  be  the  removal  of  one  of  the  difficulties  ever  connected  with  the 
disposal  of  the  products  of  unemployed  labour.  The  food  from  the 
Farm  would  be  consumed  by  the  City,  while  many  of  the  things 
manufactured  in  the  City  would  be  consumed  on  the  Farm, 

The  continued  effort  of  all  concerned  in  the  reformation  of  these 
people  will  be  to  inspire  and  cultivate  those  habits,  the  want  of 
which  has  been  so  largely  the  cause  of  the  destitution  and  vice  of 
the  past. 

Strict  discipline,  involving  careful  and  continuous  oversight, 
would  be  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of -order  amongst  so  large 
a  number  of  people,  many  of  whom  had  hitherto  lived  a  wild  and 
licentious  life.  Our  chief  reliance  in  this  respect  would  be  upoh  the 
spirit  of  mu    -il  interest  that  would  prevail. 

The  entire  Colony  would  probably  be  divided  into  sections,  each 
under  the  supervision  of  a  sergeant — one  of  themselves — working 
side   'y  3ide  with  them,  yet  responsible  for  the  behaviour  of  all. 

TIi<i  chief  Officers  of  the  Colony  would  be  individuals  who  had 
given  themF^lves  to  the  work,  not  for  a  livelihood,  but  from  a  desire 
to  be  useiul  to  the  suffering  puoi*.      They    would    be   selected 


v.i  \  'J 


•wr 


1274 


RFCAPITUL'ATION. 


H|» 


at  the  outset  from  the  Army,  and  .that  on  the  ground  of  their 
possessing  certain  capabilities  for  the^osition,  such  as  kiy^wledge 
of  the  particular  kind  of  work  they  had  to  superintend,  or  their  being 
good  disciplinarians  and  having  the  faculty  for  controlling  men  and 
being  themselves  influenced  by  a  spirit  of  love. .  Ultimately  the 
Officers,  v/e  have  no  doubt,  'would  be,  as  is  the  case  in  all  our  other 
operations,  men  and  women  raised  up  from  the  Colonists  themselves, 
and  who  will  consequently,  possess  some. special  qualifications  for 
dealing  with  f'cse  they  have  to  superintend. 

The  Colonis  -.  will  be  divided  into  two  classes :  the  1st,  the  class 
which  receives  no  wages  will  consist  of : — 

(a)  The  new  arrivals,  whose  ability,  character,  and  habits 

are  as  yet  unknown. 

(d)  The  less  capable  in  strength,  mental  calibre,  or  other 

opacity. 

(c)  ^e  indolent,  and  those  whose  conduct  and  character 

appeared  ^doubtful.     These  would  remain  in  ^  this  class,t  until 

sufficiently..  im()roved  for  advancement,  or  are  pronounced  so 
Jhopcless  as  to  justify  expulsion. 
The  2nd  class  would  have  a  small  extra  allowance,  a  part  of 
which  would  be  given  to  the  workers  for  private  use,!'and  a*  part 
reserved  for  future  contingencies,  the  payment  of  travelling  expenses, 
ere.  From  this  class  we  should  obtain  our  petty  officers,  send  out 
hired  labourers,  emigrants,  etc.,  etc. 

Such  is  the  Scheme  as  I  have  conceived  it.  Intelligently  applied, 
and  resolutely  persevered  in,  I  cannot  doubt  that,,  it  will  produce  a 
great  and  salutary  chancre  in  the  condition  of  many  of  the  most 
hopeless  of  our  fellow  countrymen.  Nor  is  it  only  our .  fellow 
countrymen  to  whom  it  is  capable  of  application.  In  its  salient 
features,  with  such  alterations  as  are  necessary,  owing  to  differences 
of  climate  and  of  race,  it  is  capable  of  adoption  in  every  city  in  the 
world,  for  it  is  an  attempt  to  restore  to  the  masses  of  humanity  that  are 
crowded  together  in  cities,  the  human  and  natural  elements  of  Jife 
which  they  possessed  when  they  lived  in  the  smaller  unit  of  the 
village  or  the  market  town.  Of  the  extent  of  the  need  there  .can  be 
no  question.  It  is,  perhaps,  greatest  in  London,  where  the  masses  of 
population  are  denser  than  those  of  any  other  city  ;  but  it  exists 
equally  in  the  chief  centres  of  population  in  the  new  Englands  that 
have  sprung  up  beyond  the  sea,'  as  well  as  in  the  larger  cities  of 
Europe.    It  is,  a  remarkable  tact  that  .up^tqjhe  present  moment  ih^ 


. '  !♦•■ 


STARVING  IN  MELBOURNE. 


276 


most  eager  welcome  that  has  been  extended  to  this  Scheme  reaches 
us  firom  Melbourne,  where  our  officers  have  been  compelled  to  begin 
operations  by  the  pressure  of  public  opinion  and  in  compliance  with 
the  ui^ent  entreaties  of  the  Government  on  one  side  and  the  leaders 
of  the  working  claases  on  the  other  before  the  plan  had  been 
elaborated,  or  instructions  could  be  sent  out  for  their  guidance. 

It  is  rather  strange  to  hear  of  distress  reaching  starvation  point  in 
a  dty  like  Melbourne,  the  capital  of  a  gieat  nev7  country  which 
teems  with  natural  wealth  of  every  kind.  But  Melbourne,  too,  has 
its  unemployed,  and  in  no  city  in  the  Empire  have  we  been  more 
successful  in  dealing  with  the  social  problem  than  in  "the  capital  of 
Victoria.  The  Australian  papers  for  some  weeks  back  have  been 
filled  with  reports  of  the  dealings  of  the  Salvation  Army  with  the 
unemployed  of  Melbourne.  This  was  before  the  great  Strike. 
The  Government  of  Victoria  practically  threw  upon  our  officers  the 
task  of  dealing  with  the  unemployed  The  subject  was  debated  in 
the  House  of  Assembly,  and  at  the  close  of  the  debate  a  subscription 
was  taken  up  by  one  of  those  who  had  been  our  most  strenuous 
opponents,  and  a  sum  of  ;^400  was  handed  over  to  our  officers  to  dis- 
pense in  keeping  the  starving  from  pferishing.  Our  people  have 
found  situations  for  no  fewer  than  i,776  persons,  and  are  dispensing 
meals  at  the  rate  of  700  a  day.  The  Government  of  Victoria 
has  long  been  taking  the  lead  in  recognising  the  secular  uses  of  the 
Salvation  Army.  ^.  The  following  letter  addressed  by  the  Minister 
of  the  Interior  to  the  Officer  charged  with  the  oversight  of  this 
part  off  our  J  operations,  indicates  the  estimation  in  which  we  are 
hdd:-^ 

G^erament  ol  Victoria,  Chief  Secretary's  Office, 
"^  Melbourne.  7 

July  4/A,  1889. 

SuperinteH^eni  Sali^tioa  Anny  Rescue  VV^rk. . 

Sir,-^In  CQmpUaDce  with  your  request  for  a  letter  of  introduction  which  may 
be  of  use  to  you  in  England,  I  have  much  pleasure  in  stating  from  reports 
fumi^bed  by  OfiScert  of  my  Department,  I  am  convincfid  that  the  work  you  have 
been  eggipged  da  during  the  pa9t  su(  ^axs  has  been  of  material  advantage  to  the 
comomuDJty.  ;  You  bsve  Feeeued  fVom  ccime  some  who,  but  for  the  counsel  and 
aaustance  rendered  tkeqi,  might  have  been  a  permanent  tax  upon  the  Stc*'*, '  nd 
you  have  restrained  from  further  criminal  courses  others  who  had  already  suffered 
legal  punishment  for  their  misdeeds.  •)■,  It  has  given  me  pleasure  to  obtain  from 
the  Executive  Council  authority  for  you  to  apprehend  children  found  in  Brothels," 


!!' 


1  :    ' 


11 


■f!( 


md  to  take  chaf^e^  moh.  ciiildreo  afteLCoima.!  coqiinittal. 


LOf^the^reat  value. 


276 


RECAPITULATION. 


of  this  branch  of  your  work  there  can  be  no  question.  It  is  evident  that  lhe| 
attendance  of  yourself  and  your  Officers  at  the  police-courts  and  lock-ups  has: 
been  attended  with  beneficial  results,  and  your  invitation  to  our  largest  jails  ha«j 
been  highly  approved  by  the  head  of  the  Department.  Generally  speaking, 
may  say  that  your  policy  and  procedure  have  been  commended  by  the  Chie;| 
Officers  of  the  Government  of  this  Colony,  who  have  observed  your  work. 

X  h{ive  the  honour  to  be,  Sir, 
'  Your  obedient  Servant, 

(Signed)  Alfred  DEAKirr. 

The  Victorian  Parliament  has  voted  an  annual  grant  to  our  funds, 
not  as  a  religious  endowment,  but  in  recognition  of  the  service  whicli 
we  render  in  the  reclamation  of  criminals,  and  what  may  be  called, 
if  I  may  use  a  word  which  has  been  so  depraved  by  Continental 
abuse,  the  moral  police  of  the  city.  Our  Officer  in  Melbourne  has  ar, 
official  position  which  opens  to  him  almost  every  State  institution 
and  all  the  haunts  of  vice  where  it  may  be  necessary  for  him  to  mal.:. 
his  way  in  the  search  for  girls  that  have  been  decoyed  from  honi^  ] 
or  who  have  fallen  into  evil  courses. 

It  is  in  Victoria  also  that  a  system  prevails  of  handing  over  fir  l 
offenders  to  the  care  of  the  Salvation  Army  Officers,  placing  thein 
VI  recognizance  to  come  up  when  called  for.  An  Officer  of  ti.e 
Army  attends  at  every  Police  Court,  and  the  Prison  Brigade  i- 
always  on  guard  at  the  gaol  doors  when  the  prisoners  are  discharged 
Our  Officers  also  have  free  access  to  the  prisons,  where  they  a.. 
conduct  services  and  labour  with  the  inmates  for  their  Salvatio:. 
As  Victoria  is  probably  the  most  democratic  of  our  colonic, 
and  the  one  in  which  the  working-class  has  supren . 
control,  the  extent  to  which  it  has  by  its  governme-j* 
recognised  the  value  of  our  operations  ^  is  sufficient  ; . 
indicate  that  we  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  opposition  of  the 
democracy.  In  the  neighbouring  colony  of  New  South  Wales  a  lacy 
has  already  given  us  a  farm  of  three  hundred  acres  fully  stocked,  c:i 
which  to  begin  operations  with  a  Farm  Colony,  and  there  seem.. 
some  prospect  that  the  Scheme  will  get  itself  into  active  shape  at  the; 
other  end  of  the  world  before  it  is  set  agoing  in  London.  The  eager ; 
welcome  which  has  thus  forced  the  initiative  upon  our  Officers  in 
Melbourne  tends  to  encourage  the  expectation  that  the  Scheme  will 
be  regarded  as  no  quack  application,  but  will  be  generally  taken  up 
and^uickly  set  in  operation  all  round  the  world. 


CHAPTER    VIII: 


A   PRACTICAL   CONCLUSION. 


Throughout  this  book  I  have  more  constantly  used  the  first 
[personal  pronoun  than  ever  before  in  anything  I  have  written.  I 
lliave  done  this  deliberately,  not  from  egotism,  but  in  order  to  make 
lit  more  clearly  manifest  that  here  is  a  definite  proposal  made  by  an 
lindividual  who  is  prepared,  if  the  means  are  furnished  him,  to  carry 
it  out.  '■'At  the  same  time  I  want  it  to  be  clearly  understood  that  it 
k'  not  in  my  own  strength,  nor  at  mj  own  charge,  that  I  purpose  to 
[embark  upon  tliis  great  undertaking.  Unless  God  wills  that  I 
should  work  out  the  idea  of  which  I  believe  He  has  given  me  the 
(conception,  nothing  can  come  of  any  attempt  at  its  execution  but 
confusion,  disaster,  and  disappointment.  —But  if  it  be  His  will — and 
whether  it  is  or  not,  visible  and  manifest  tokens  will  soon  be  forth- 
coming—who is  there  that  can  stand  against  it?  Trusting  in  Him 
for  guidance,  encouragement,  and  support,  I  propose  at  once  to  enter 
[upon  this  formidable  campaign.  -  . 

!  do  not  run  without  b-^ing  called.  I  do  not  press  forward  to.,  fill 
I  this  breach  without  being  urgently  pushed  from,  behind.  Whether 
or  not,  I  am  called  of ^  God,  as  well. as  by  the  agonising  cries  of 
suftering  men  and  women  and  children,  He  will  make  plain  to  me, 
and  to  us  all ;  for  as  Gideon  looked  for  a  sign  before  he,  at  the 
bidding  of  the  heavenly  ■  messenger,  undertook  the  leading  of  the 
!  chosen  people  against  the  hosts  of 'Midian,  even  so  do  I  look  for  a 
sign.  Gideon's  sign  was  arbitrary.  -  He  selected  it  He  dictated 
his  own  terms;  and  out  of  compassion  for  his  halting  faith,  a  sign 
Was  V  given  to  I  him,"  and  v  that  twice  over.  First,  his  fleece  was  dry 
when  ^all  the  country  round  was  drenched  with  dew  ;  and,  secondly, 
In 3  r  "-^e  was':' drenched -with  dew  when  all  the  country  round 


'w:\ 

'It!  • 

111 


ij! 


278 


A   PRACTICAL  CONCLUSION. 


The  sign  for  which  I  ask  to  embolden  mc  to  go  forwards  is  single, 
not  double.  It  is  necessary  and  not  arbitrary,  and  it  is  one  which 
the  veriest  sceptic  or  the  most  cynical  materialist  will  recognise  as 
sufficient.  If  I  am  to  work  out  the  Scheme  I  have  outlined  in  this 
book,  I  must  have  ample  means  for  doing  so.  How  much  would  be 
required  to  establish  this  Plan  of  Campaign  in  all  its  fulness/  over- 
shadowing all  the  land  with  its  branches  lartlen  with  all  manner  of 
pleasant  fruit,  I  cannot  even  venture  to  form  a  conception.  But  I 
have  a  definite  idea  as  to  how  much  would  be  reauired  to  set  it  fairly 
in  operation. 

Why  do  I  talk  about  commencing  ?  We  have  already  begun,,  and 
that  with  considerable  effect.  Our  hand  has  been  forced  by  circum- 
stances. The  mere  rumour  of  our  undertaking  reaching  the  Anti- 
podes, as  before  described,  called  forth  such  a  demonstration  of 
approval  that  my  Officers  there  were  compelled  to  begin  action  with- 
out waiting  orders  from  home.  In  this  country  we  have  been  workin* 
on  the  verge  of  the  deadly  morass  for  some  years  gone  by,  and  not 
without  marvellous  effect.  We  have  our  Shelters,  our  Labour  Bureau, 
our  Factory,  our  Inquiry  Officers,  our  Rescue  Homes,  our  Slum  Sisters, 
and  other  kindred  agencies,  all  in  good  going  order.  The  sphere  of 
these  operations  may  be  a  limited  one;  still,  what  we  have  done  already 
is  ample  proof  that  when  I  propose  to  do  much  more  I  am  not  speak- 
ing without  my  book  ;  and  though  the  sign  I  ask  for  may  not  be 
given,  I  shall  go  struggling  forward  on  the  same  lines ;  still,  to 
seriously  take  in  hand  the  work  which  I  have  sketched  out — to  esta- 
blish this  triple  Colony,  with  all  its  affiliated  agencies,  I  must  have,  at 
least,  a  hundred  thousand  pounds. 

A  hundred  tliousand  pounds  I  That  is  the  dew  on  my  fleece.  It 
is  not  muc  considering  the  money  that  is  raised  by  my  poor  peop ^.e 
for  the  work  of  the  Salvation  Army.  The  proceeds  of  the  Self- 
Denial  Week  alone  last  year  brought  us  in  ;^20,cxx).  This  year  it 
will  not  fall  short  of  ;C^25,ooo.  If  our  poor  people  can  do  so  much 
out  of  their  poverty,  I  do  not  think  I  am  leaking  an  extravagant 
demand  when  I  ask  that  out  of  the  millions  of  the  wealth  of  the 
world  I  raise,  as  a  first  instalment,  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  and 
say  that  I  rannot  consider  myself  effectually  called  to  undertake  this 
work  unless  it  is  forthcoming. 

It  is  in  no  spirit  of  dictation  or  arrogance  that  I  ask  Hhe  sign.  It 
is  a  necessity.  Even  Moses  could  not  have  taken  the  Children  of 
Israel  dry-shod  through  the  Red  Sea  unless  the  waves  had  divided. 


^ards  is  single, 
;  is  one  which 
1  recognise  as 
Jtlined  in  this 
tiuch  would  be 
fulness/  over- 
all manner  of 
ption.  "  But  I 
to  set  it  fairly 

iy  begun,,  and 
ed  by  circum- 
ng  the  Anti- 
lonstration  of 

1  action  with- 
been  workin* 

o 

2  by,  and  not 
ibour  Bureau, 

Slum  Sisters, 
The  sphere  of 

done  already 
.m  not  speak- 

may  not  be 
les ;  still,  to 
)ut— to  esta- 
must  have,  at 

ly  fleece.     It 

poor  people 

of  the  Seir- 

This  year  it 

1  do  so  much 

extravagant 

ealth  of  the 

pounds,  and 

idertake  this 


THE^'SIQNillWANT. 


279 


That  was  the.  sign'which.'marked  "out.  his  duty;  aided  his  "faith,  and 
determined  his  action.  ^.Thesign  which  I  seek'  is 'somewhat  similar; 
Money  is  not  everything.  .  It  is  not  by  any^means  the  main'ihingJ 
Midas,  with  all  his  millions,  could  ho^ihore' do  the;, work  than  he 
could  win  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  or  hold  the  Pass,  of  Thermopylae  J 
But  the  millions  of  Midas  are  capable"" of  accomplishing  great  and 
mighty  things,  if  they  be  sent  about  doing  good  under  the  direction 
of  Divine  v/isdom  and  Christ-like  loye. 

How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter' into  the.  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  1  It  is  easier  to  make  a  hundred'poof  men  sacrifice  their 
lives  than  it  is  to  induce  one  rich  man  to  sacrifice  his  fortune,  or. 
even  a  portion  of  it,  to  a  cause  in  which,  in  his  half-hearted  fashion,' 
he  seems  to  believe.'  When  I: look  over  the  roll  of  men  and  women' 
who  have  given  up  friendi)  parents;  home  prospects,  and  .everything, 
they  possess  in  order  to  walk  bare-footed  beneath  a  burning  sun.  inj 
distant  India,  to  live  on  a  hapdful  of  rice,  and^die^in'the  midst  of  thej 
dark  heathen  for  God  and  the  >  Salvation  Army,'  I  sometimes  [  marvel 
how  it  is  that  they  should  be  so  eager  to  give  up  all,  even  life  itself,; 
in  a  cause  which  has  not  power  enough  in  it  to  induce  any  reasonaljle 
number  W  wealthy  men  to  "give  to  :it  the'  mere  superfluities  and 
luxuries  of  their  existence.  *  From  those  to  whom  much  is' given  muchi 
is^xpected  ;  but,  alas,  alas,  how  little  is  .  realised  P  It  is  still  Jlie 
^widow  who  casts  her  all  into  the  Lord's  treasury — the  wealthy  deem  it  a 
preposterous  suggestion  when  we  allude  to  the  Lord's  tithe,  and  count  it 
boredom  when  we  ask  only  for  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their  tables.] 

Those  who  have  followed  me  thus  far  will  decide  for  themselves^ 
to;  what  extent  they,  ought  to  help  me  to  carry  out  this  Project,  or 
whether  they  ought  to.  help  me  at  all.  >  L  do  not  thinkfthat  any, 
sectarian  differences  or- religious  feelings  whatever  ought  to  be 
imported  into  this  question.  Supposing  you  do  not  like  my  Salva- 
tionism,  surely  it  is  better  for  these  miserable,  wretched  crowds  to 
have, food  to  eat,  clothes  to  wear,  and  a  home'  in  which  to  lay 
their  weary  bones  after  their  day's  toil  is  done,  even  though  the 
chaise  is  accompanied  by  some  peculiar  religious  notions^ and  prac- 
tices, <than  it  would  be  for  them  to  be  hungry,  and  naked,  and 
hoi^e;^  apd  possess  no  religion  at  all.  It  must-  be  infinitely  pre- 
ferable that  they  should  speak  the  truth,  and  be  virtuous,  industrious, 
and  contented,  even  if  they  do  pray  to  God,  sing  Psalms,  and  go 
about  with  red  jerseys,  faL?ticaily,  as  you  call  it,  "seeking  for  the 
jnaillennium"— rthan  that  thev.shqukL  remain  thieves  or  harlots, _with 


■1 ) 


!|[^ 


;  / 


m 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


11.25 


UiUl    12.5 
^  ^    12.2 

1.4    IIIIII.6. 


■^>i 


^ 


/ 


f 


"y. 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  tViST  MAIN  STIteiT 

WrwMTER.N.Y.  14580 

(71«)  •72-49(3 


s> 


IVi 


m  I 


280 


A  PRACTICAL  CONCLUSION. 


■ 3.  Tha 

no  belief  in  God  at  all,  a  burden  to  the  Municipality,  a  curse  to  ?s  effeclut 
Society,  and  a  danger  to  the  State.  ijti  me 

That  you  do  not  like  the  Salvation  Army,  1  venture  to  say,  is  no  iome  plai 
justification  for  withholding  your  sympathy  and  practical  co-opera-  of  these 
tion  in  carrying  out  a  Scheme  which  promises  so  much  blessedness  Let  it  se 
to  your  fellow-men.  You  may  not  like  our  government,  our  methods,  see  the  e^ 
our  faith.  Your  feeling  towards  us  might  perhaps  be  duly  described  luccess. 
by  an  observation  that  slipped  unwittingly  from  the  tongue  of  a  to  be  relie 
somewhat  celebrated  leader  in  the  evangelistic  world  sometime  ago,  sideratior 
who,  when  asked  what  he  thought  of  the  Salvation  Army,  replied  turn  to,  a 
that  "  He  did  not  like  it  at  all,  but  he  believed  that  God  Almighty  jflfer,  I  de 
did."  Perhaps,  as  an  agency,  we  may  not  be  exactly  of  your  way  ol  Now,  i 
thinking,  but  that  is  hardly  the  question.  Look  at  that  dark  ocean,  :xpresse( 
full  of  human  wrecks,  writhing  in  anguish  and  despair.  How  to  equally  fj 
rescue  those  unfortunates  is  the  question.  The  particular  charactci  pu  knovt 
of  the  methods  employed,  the  peculiar  uniforms  worn  by  the  life-  he  book, 
boat  crew,  the  noises  made  by  the  rocket  apparatus,  and  the  important 
mingled  shoutings  of  the  rescued  and  the  rescuers,  may  all  be  nay  not 
contrary  to  your  taste  and  traditions.  But  all  these  objections  and  them  to  t 
antipathies,  I  submit,  are  as  nothing  compared  with  the  delivering  ol  you  then 
the  people  out  of  that  dark  sea.  or,  rathei 

If  among  my  readers  there  be  any  who  have  the  least  concdptioi  someone 
that  this  scheme  is  put  forward  by  me  from  any  interested  motives  whom  y< 
by  ail  means  let  them  refuse  to  contribute  even  by  a  sinj,le  penny  t(  discernpc 
what  would  be,  at  least,  one  of  the  most  shameless  of  shams.  Then  saint  or  s 
may  be  those  who  are  able  to  imagine  that  men  who  have  beeiB)uwels  o 
literally  martyred  in  this  cause  have  faced  their  death  for  the  sake  ol 
the  paltry  coppers  they  collected  to  keep  body  and  soul  together^ 
Such  may  possibly  find  no  difficulty  in  persuading  themselves  thai 
this  is  but  another  attempt  to  raise  money  to  augment  that  mythical 
fortune  which  I,  who  never  yet  drew  a  penny  beyond  mere  out-of^ 
pocket  expenses  from  the  Salvation  A^-my  funds,  am  supposed  to 
accumulating.  From  all  such  I  ask  only  the  tribute  of  their  abub 
assured  that  the  worst  they  say  of  me  is  too  mild  to  describe  the  infain 
of  my  conduct  if  they  are  correct  in  this  interpretation  of  my  motive 

There  appsars  to  me  to  be  only  two  reasons  that  will  justify  aii 
man,  with  a  heart  in  iiis  bosom,  in  refusing  to  co-operate  with  ml 
in  this  Scheme : — 

I.  That  he  should  have  an  honest  and  inteiiigent  conviction  that 
cannot  be  carried  out  with  any  reasonable  measure  of  success;  or. 


I  shou 
as  some 
ihould  I 
fhis  o\ 
nvestiga 

There 
xcuse  t 
Liieme. 
f  thouss 
oring 

ho  thin 
f  poun 

aking 


f( 


mn 


)  say,  is  no 
al  co-opera- 


PiW" 


IS  IT  IMPOSSIBLE? 


231 


That  he  (the  objector)  is  prepared  with  some  other  plan  ivhi^h  will 
a  curse  to§?s  effectually  accomplish  the  end  it  contemplates. 

Let  me  consider  the  second  reason  first.  If  it  be  that  you  have 
iome  plan  that  promises  more  directly  to  accomplish  the  deliverance 
jf  these  multitudes  than  mine,  I  implore  you  at  once  to  bring  it  out. 
Let  it  see  the  light  of  day.     Let  us  not  only  hear  your  theory,  but 


your  way  o 
dark  ocean 

r. 

r  chan 

lif, 


blessedness 

ur  methods,  see  the  evidences  which  prove  its  practical  character  and  assure  its 

y  described  iuccess.     If  your  plan  will  bear  investigation,  I  shall  then  consider  you 

ongue  of  a  to  be  relieved  from  the  o\  ligation  to  assist  rae — nay,  if  after  full  con- 

metime  ago,  sideration  of  your  plan  I  find  it  better  than  mine,  I  will  give  up  mine, 

■my,  replied  turn  to,  and  help  you  with  all  my  might.     But  if  you  have  nothing  to 

)d  Almighty  jffer,  I  demand  your  help  in  the  name  of  those  whose  cause  I  plead. 

Now,  then,   for  your  first  objection,  which    I   suppose  can   be 

;xpressed  in  one  word — "  impossible."      This,  if  well  founded,  is 

How  to  Equally  fatal  to  my  proposals.     But,  in  reply,  I  may  say — How  do 

ar  charactci  pu  know  ?    Have  you  inquired  ?    I  will  assume  that  you  have  read 

by  the  lifo-^  he  book,  and  duly  considered  it.     Surely  you  would  not  dismiss  so 

s,    and    the  important  a  theme  without  some  thought.     And  though  my  arguments 

may  all  be  nay  not  hav.e  sufficient  weight  to  carry  conviction,  you  must  admit 

ijections  and  them  to  be  of  sufficient  importance  to  warrant  investigation.    Will 

delivering  ol  you  therefore  come  and  see  for  yourself  what  has  been  done  already, 

or,  rather,  what  we  are  doing  to-day.      Failing  this,  will  you  send 

it  conception  someone  capable  of  judging  on  your  behalf.     I  do  not  care  very  much, 

sted  motive!  whom  you  send.     It  is  true  the  things  of  the  Spirit  are  spiritually 

^le  penny  t(  discerned,  but  the  things  of  humanity  any  man  can  judge,  whether 

ims.    Then   saint  or  sinner,  if  he  only  possess  average  intelligence  and  ordinary 

o  have  beeAuwels  of  compassion. 

r  the  sake  ofl  I  should,  however,  if  I  had  a  choice,  prefer  an  investigator  who 
lul  togetheAas  some  practical  knowledge  of  social  economics,  and  much  more 
nselves  thaAhould  I  be  pleased  if  he  had  spent  some  of  his  own  time  and  a  little 
lat  mythics^f  his  own  money  in  trying  to  do  the  work  himself.  After  such 
nvestigation  I  am  confident  there  could  be  only  one  result. 
There  is  one  more  -^  lea  I  have  to  offer  to  those  who  might  seek  to 
xcuse  themselves  from  rendering  any  financial  assistance  to  the 
nieme.  Is  it  not  worthy  at  least  0/ being  tried  as  an  txperimeni  ?  Tens 
I  thousands  of  pounds  are  yearly  spent  in  "  trying  "  for  minerals, 
oring  for  coals,  sinking  for  water,  and  i  believe  there  are  those 
ho  think  it  worth  while,  at  an  expenditure  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
pounds,  to  experiment  in  order  to  test  the  possibility  ,of 
aking  a    tunnel    under    the     sea    between    this    country   and 


aicre  out- 
jposed  to 
their  abuL, 
e  the  infani 
my  motive 
1  justify  ail 
ate  with  ml 

iction  that 


M 


"u 


!  I 


H 


•.■■:- |i 
V  ,-i 


s;  or, 


V'^ 


«B 


PRACTICALTCONCLUSIOI^. 


■ 


jhuridfeds  ■  oitl^thousahds  of  pounds  have  beeiTexpended/^tTOtithey^ 
havepiSr;  been  J  wasted,  and  they|will  ^not;' com'plainTj^ause 
[they  liave  at  least  attempted  the  accomplishment  bf:that;whichjhcy^ 
ifelt^^ught  to  be  done;  and  it •  must t be  better  to fattempt'rafiJuty/ 
'though  we  fail,  than  never  to* attempt  it  at  all^lri^thisjbook^w^^^ 
think  we  have  presented  a  sufficient  reason  to  justify  theexpchditure 
of  the  montjy  and  effort  involved  in  the  making  |;bf*this'i*cxperiihent. 
And  though  the  effort  should  not 'terminate^ in*  the" grand  *success 
;  w'2nch;^  I  so  confidently  predict,':  aridy;which  we '  all^  must  so  ardently 
desirej*  still  there  is  bound  tdbe^^ not  'only  'the  satistactiorfof ^liaying 
attempted  some''s6il;of|delivefancet?6r£  these  wretched  people^  but 
certain,  results  whichlwilljariipjyt're^^^ 
'the  experiment. 

I  ;am^now  ■  sixty-one  yearsJof|age3|^Th€r  laSt^cighteen  *fionths, 
during  which  the  ■  continual  partner'of  all  my  activities  for  no^iicariy 
forty  years  has  laid  in, the  aims"" of  unspeakable  sufTerihg,  has'^ailded 


more  .than  many  many*  former 'ones,  to/the  exhaustiori^'br,  my 
Service,  i  I  feel  already jsoniething "^of .the  pressurej which  ■ 


pressure. 


term  of 
led^the 


dying  Emperor  'of  Germany  tb'say,';  *|  I.  have  no'time^to;  be  weary." 


■-«-, 


ilf  jj^^van*  Jto  see.,  the  accomplishment :  iiil'ahy.  considerable- degree  of 
these' life-long  hopes;^I  must  be  enabled- to'embark' upon,  the  Enter- 
prise without  delay,  and  with'  the'wbrld-wide  burdenxonstantly  upon 
me  '■:■  in  connection  with*^  the  universar  mission  *of  our.; Army  I  cannot 
be" Expected  to, struggle  in  this  mattei:  alone. 

But'^I-  trust ;  that ;  the  upper'arid  <  middle -xlasses^  are  at  laSt  b€ihg 
awakened  out 'of  their  long  slumber  with  regard  tor  the  permanent 
improvement  biF  the  lot  of  those  who  have  hitherto  been  regarded  as 
being.for  ever  abandoned  and  hopeless."  Shame  indeed  iipon  England 
if,  withY the',  example X presented  to  us  nowadays iby^thc; Emperor 
and  Government  of  Germany,. we  simply  shrug  our  shoulders,^'an:i 
pass  on^again  to'^our business* or  our  pleasure  leaving  these. wretchc.! 
multitudes  in  the  gutters  wher«*  they  have  lain  so  long^^i-.Ncf  no^  no ; 
time  is  short,  't  Let  us  arise  in  the  name  of  God^and.hutriahit;^'^and 
wipe  away  the  sad  stigma  fro^ '  the  British  banneirlthati^sur;  horses 
are  better  treated  than  our  labourers;. 

Iti will,  be  ;seetfCthat ■  this  Scheme^containsf  manyf BraScliesi  It 
is  probable  that' some' o'  •^**  """'*— »'~~"  — v*  i^i- -kiv  **  -i^ Ji:-sH  *t.-!i 

t>Ian  a^:2^hble  while 


ira- 


gn 
d,iti^hey 

inflMcause 

tOwhichthey, 

imptra?duty; 

^bbah^wc  do 

rexpcnditure 

experiment. 

rand  ^success 

it  so  ardently 

biToffhaying 

i  peoplej*but 

expended:  in 


teen  fhonths, 
>r  now^ 


ig,  has  added 
ifmy  terai  ot 
rhich<  leaf  the 
:ov  be  weary, 
bid^aegree  of 
)n.  thie  inter- 
nstahtlyupon 
jihy  I  cannot 

sat  laSthgihg 
lepermanent 
ii  regarded  as 
Lipon  England 
the  Empieror 
ioulders,''an:i 
lese.wretchc-i 
<|,No,no;no; 
lumahity/aiid 
iatiisui'i  horsts 

BrShcIiesi    Itl 
o^iSdbfsithei 


HOW  TO  SUBSCRIBE. 


283 


and  to  the  support  of  what  they  do  not  heartily  approve  they  may  not 
be  willing  to  subscribe.  Where  this  is  so,  wc  shall  be  glad  for  them 
to  assist  us  in  carrying  rut  those  portions  of  the  undertaking  which 
more  especially  command  their  sympath}'  and  commend  themselves 
to  their  judgment.  For  instance,  one  man  may  believe  in  the 
Over-Sea  Colony,  but  feel  no  interest  in  the  Inebriates'  Home ; 
another,  who  may  not  care  for  emigration,  may  desire  to  furnish  a 
Factory  or  Rescue  Home ;  a  third  may  wish  to  give  us  an  estate, 
assist  in  the  Food  and  Shelter  work,  or  the  extension  of  the  Slum 
Brigade.  Now,  although  I  regard  the  Scheme  as  one  and 
indivisible — from  which  you  cannot  take  away  any  portion  without 
impairing  the  prospect  of  the  whole — it  is  quite  practicable  to 
administer  the  money  subscribed  so  that  the  wishes  of  each  donor 
may  be  carried  out.  Subscriptions  may,  therefore,  be  sent  in  for  the 
general  fund  of  the  Social  Scheme,  or  they  can  be  devoted  to  any  of 
the  following  distinct  funds : — 


1.  The  City  C  *^ony. 

2.  The  Farm  Colony. 

3.  The  Colony  Over-Sea. 

4.  The  Household  Salvage 

Brigade. 

5.  The  Rescue  Homes  for 

Fallen  Women. 


6.  Deliverance      for      the 
Drunkard. 

7.  The  Prison  Gate  Brigade. 

8.  The  Poor  Man'fi  Bank. 

9.  The  Poor  Man's  Lawyer. 
10.  Whitechapel-by-the-Sea. 


Or  any  other  department  suggested  by  the  foregoing. 

Ih  making  this  appeal  I  have,  so  far,  addressed  myself  chiefly  to 
those  who  have  money  ;  but  money,  indispensable  as  it  is,  has  never 
been  the  thing  moat  needful.  Money  is  the  sine vvs  of  war ;  and,  as 
society  is  at  present  constituted,  neither  carnal  nor  spiritual  wars 
can  be  carried  on  without  money.  But  there  is  something  more 
necessary  still.  War  cannot  be  waged  without  soldiers.  A 
Wellington  can  do  far  more  in  a  campaign  than  a  Rothschild. 
More  than  money — a  long,  long  way — I  v/ant  men  ;  and  when  I  say 
men,  I  mean  women  also — men  of  experience,  men  of  brains,  men  of 
heart,  and  men  of  God. 

In  this  great  expedition,  though  I  am  starting  tor  territory  which  is 
familiar  enough,  I  am,  in  a  certain  sense,  entering  an  unknown  land. 
My  people  will  be  new  at  it.  Wc  have  trained  our  soldiers  to  the 
r.aving  of  souls,  we  have  taught  them  Knee-drill,  we  have  instructed 
ihem  in  the  art  and  mystery  of  dealing  with  the  consciences  and  hearts 
;  I"  men ;  and  that  will  ever  continue  t'uu  main  business  of  their  lives. 


I  ! 
i  '■ 


■•■.\V 


r  :■■ 


■S<«i 


^^^ 


^^m 


"^ 


284 


'A   PRACTICAL  CONCLUSIOM 


To  save  the  soul,  to  regenerate  the  life,  and  to  inspire  the  spirit  with 
the  undying  love'of  Christ  is  the  worklo'^Whicli  all  other  duties  must 
ever  be  strictly'^subordinate  in  the  Soldiers  *of  the  Salvation  Afmy.' 
But  the  new  sphere  on  which  we  are.  entering"  will 'call  for  faculties 
other,  than  those  which  have  hitherto  been  cultivated,  and  For  know- 
ledge of  a  different  character  ;  and  those' who  have  these  gifts,  and 
who  ^arev  possessed  of  this  practical :.:  information,  ^.will  be  sprely 
needed.'. 

Already  our  world-wide  Salvation  work  Gn~rosses  the  energies  of 
every,,;  Officer  whom  we  command/^^.  With  its  extension  we  have 
the  greatest  difficulty  to  keep  pice;  and,  when  this  Scheme  has  to. 
be  practically  grappled  with,  we  shall, be  in  greater  straits'  than  ever. 
True,  it  will  find  employment  for,  ,a  multitude  of  energies  arid  talents 
which  are  now  lying  dormant,  but,  nevertheless,  this  extension  will 
tax  our  resources  to  the  very  utmost.  '  In  view 'of  this,  reinforce-' 
ments  will  be  indispensable.  We  shall  need  the  ^ best  brains,  the 
largest  experienceif  and  iif  the  most?  undaunted  v  energy  of  the 
community. 

I  want  Recruits,  buf  I  cannot  soften  the  conditions  in  order  to 
attract  'men  to  the  Colours.  ■'■■•  I  want  no  comrades  on  these  terms, 
but  those  who  know  .jour  rules  and  are  prepared  to  submit  to  our 
discipline:  who  are  one" with  us  on  the  great  principles  whtchf deter- 
mine our  action,  and  whose  hearts  are  inuhis  great t work.' for ^  the 
amelioration  of  the  hard  Jot  jpflhe. lapsed,  and  lost:^LThiESeJ.wilL 
welcome  to  the  service. 

t  may  be  that  you  cannot  deliver  an  open-air;  address,  or  conduct 
an  indoor  meeting.  ;  Public  labour  for  souls  has  hitherto  been  outside 
your  practice.  •  In  the  Lord's  vineyard,  h6\yeyer;  are  many  labourers,' 
and  all  are  not  needed  to  do  the  same  thirigi'^If  you  have  a  practical 
acquaintance  with  any  of  the  varied  operatioris  of  which  I  have 
spoken  in  this  book  ;  if  you  are  familiar  with;  agricultare,  understand 
the  building  trade,  or  have  a  practical  knowledge  of  almost  any  form 
of  manufacture,'  there  is  a  place  for  you.- 

jWe  cannot  offer  you  great  pay,  social  position,  or  any  glitter  and 
tinsel  of  man's  glory;  in  fact,  we  can  promise  little  more  than  rations, 
plenty  of  hard  work,  and  probably  no  little 'of  worldly  scorn  ;  but  if 
on  the  whole  you  believe  you  can  in  no  other  way  help  your-Lord.so 
well  and  bless  humanity  so  much,  you^/ivill  brave  the  oppbsition^of 
friends,  abandon  earthly- pfospects;^Mtrampiepricle'  under  foot,  and 
come  out  and  follow  Him  i>i  this  NewXrusade. 


soui 
conl 
The 
min 
whii 
give 
the 
the 
I 
oblij 
rest 
the 
Plai 
whc 
unn 


■  l: 


Your  respomsibilitv/ 


S»i 


To  you  who  believe  in  the  remedy  here' proposed,  aiia  the 
soundness  of  these  plans,  and  have  the  ability  to  assist  me,  I  now 
confidently  appeal  for  practical  evidence  of  the  faith  that, is  in  you^ 
The  responsibility  is  no  longer  mine  alone.  ;.  It  is  your?  as  much  as 
mine.  It  is  yours  even  more  than  mine  if  you  withhold  the  means  by 
which  I  may  cairy  out  the  Scheme.  ',  I  give  what  I  have.S'If  you 
give  what  you  have  the  work  ^ will  be  done.,v;  If  it  is  not  done,  and 
the  dark  river  of  wretchedness  rolls  on,  as  wide  and  deep  as.ever* 
the  consequences  will  lie  at  the  door  of  him  who  holds  back.* 

I  am  only  one  man  among  my  fellows,  the  same  as  you3^  IThe 
obligation  to  care  for^ these  lost  and  perishing  multitudes  does  not 
rest  on  me  any  more  than  it  does  on  you.  <  To  me  has  been  given 
the  idea,  but  to  you  the  means  by  which  it  may  be  realised. ;';i The 
Plan  has  now  been  published  to  the  world;  it  is  for  yo^>tQ  say 
whether  it  is  to  remain  barren, '  or  whether  it  is  to  bear  fruit  in 
unnumbered  blessings  to  all  the  children  of  men. 


I  ! 


m 


■.i 


..'I 


■,'j 


■[   :'■ 


-1 


wmmmmmmmmmmmm. 


mim 


mm 


APPENDIX. 


THE    SALVATION    ARMY. 

THB  FOStTION  OF  OUB  FORCES. 
OCTOBBB,  1890. 


Corp* 

or 

Boclelles. 

The  United  KinKdom  ...  137& 

Out- 
posts. 

oncers 

or 

Persons 

wholly 

enfrased 

in  tno 

Work. 

4fi06 

Prance 
Switcerland 

\    106 

••• 

73 

&,U 

Sweden     ... 

103 

41 

338 

United  Statee 

•  ••             ei 

.    363 

67 

1066 

nnnda 

•••       •••    317 

78 

1031 

AuitralU- 

Vlotorla .. 

...    ] 

South  Australia 

Mew  South  Wales 

-    370 

465 

903 

Tasmania 

••• 

Queenslnnd 

•••        ( 

jNeyr  Zealand 

«••              e» 

.     65 

99 

186 

India 
Cpylon 

...    , 

•      80    . 

61 

419 

Holland     ... 

••a            •• 

40 

8 

131 

Denmark  ... 

•«•            •• 

.     33 

— 

87 

Norway     ... 

•  •a               •• 

.     45 

7 

133 

Germany  ... 

«•■               •• 

.      16 

6 

75 

Belgium    ... 

•  ••               •• 

4 

— 

31 

FinUnd     ... 

•  ••               •• 

.       3 

— 

13 

The  Argentine  Uepublh 

i       3 

— 

15 

South  Africa 

aud    St 

. 

Helena  ... 

eae              •• 

62 

13 

163 

Total  abroad 

.  1499 

896 

4910 

Grand  total 

•••             •• 

.2874 

896 

M16 

THB  SUPPLY  ("TBADB")  DEFAKTMRNT. 

At  Home.  Abroad. 
Buildings  occupied— At  Home, 

8 1  Abroad,  23 

OlBcere  ' ...     68      ...       15 

Bmplojte ...      307      ...      .%5 


••«  ••• 


*•• 

«877.S00 

••• 

10.000 

.A 

13,598 

•■• 

11.676 

*•« 

6.601 

•  •• 

98,738 

••• 

86.351 

••• 

14.798 

••• 

6.637 

••• 

7.188 

••• 

a.340 

••• 

10.401 

••a 

£644.618 

THB  '  ^OPERTY  DBFABTMBITr. 
Proptrfy  now  Vested  in  the  Armif;— 
The  United  Kingdom     ... 
France  and  Switzerland  ... 

Sweden        

Norway        

The  United  States 

Canada 

Australia      

New  Zealand         

mala  ...       ...       .„       „, 

Holland 
Denmark       ..       .. 

South  Africa... 

Total  .. 

Value  of  trade  effects,  stock,  machinery,  and 
goods  on  hand.  £1.30,000  additional. 

SOCIAL  WORK  OF  THB  ARMY. 
Rescue  homes  (fallen  women).., 

Slum  Post* 

Prison  Gate  Brigades     

Food  Depots         , 

Shelters  for  the  Destitute       .. 

Inebriates*  Home 

Factory  for  the  "  out  of  work" ., 

Labour  Bureaux 

Officers  nnd  others  managing  those  bmnehes  384 

SALVATION  AND  SOCIAL  RBFORM 
LITISUATURB. 

At  Cirou- 

home.  Abroad.       lation. 
Weekly  Newspapers ...  3   ...   34    „.   81.000,0iiu 
Monthly Magazlnts...  3   ...    13    ...     S.400,00Q 


••• 

•e« 

Od 

••• 

••• 

33 

••• 

••• 

10 

••• 

••• 

4 

tea 

••• 

5 

••• 

••• 

1 

••• 

••• 

1 

•so 

••• 

3 

_  Total  ...  M     • 


zi,mjM 


10 


Total 


800 


TO 


^^^imm^paRBiWP 


iv 


APPENDIX. 


Total  annual  circulation  of  the  above  88,400,000 
Total  annual  circulation   of   other 
publications  .^  ...' 4,000,000 


Total  annual  circulation  of 
literature***    •••   ••*    •••    ••• 

Tax  United  Kinox>ok— 
"  The  War  Cry 
"  The  Young  Soldier 
"All  the  World"... 
"The  Deliverer"... 


Army 


37.400.000 


eea       ae* 


•••       eea 


eei       eee 


300,000  weekly. 
136,750       „ 

60,000  monthly. 

48,000       „ 


GENERAL  STATRMEN'i'S  AND  STATISTICS. 

Accom-  Annual 
modaticn.  cost. 


£11, COO 


Training  Garrisons  for  Ofll 
oeri  (United  KinKdom)...    28      400 
Do.     Do.     (Abroad)...    3S      7C0 

Large  Vans  for  Evange- 
Using  the  Villa(ies(l(nown 
as  Cavalry  Forts)  7 

Homes  of  Rest  for  Ofllcers     3i      240       10.000 

Indoor  Meetings,  held 
weekly      38,391 

Open-air  Meetings  beld 
weekly  (chiefly  In 
England  and   Colonics)        31,467 


Total  Meetings  i 


My        49,818 


Number  of  Houses  visited 
weekly  (Great  Brltoin 
only) 84,000 

Number  of '  Countries  and  Colonies 
occupied       34 

number  of  Languages  In  which  Litera- 
ture is  issued  15 

Number  of  Languages  In  which  Saltation 
is  preached  by  tlie  Officers        39 

Number  of  I^ocal'  (Non-Commissloned 
Officers)  and  Bandsmen 33,069 

Number  ot  Scribes  and  Office  Employes         471 

Average  weekly  reception  of  telegrams, 
vVN).  and  Utters,  6,400,  at  the  London 
Headquartera. 

Sum  raited  annually  from  all  sources  by 

the  Army      £750,'X)0 

Bala.'vce  Shkkts.  duly  audited  by  chartered 

accountants,  are  issued  annually  in  connection 

with  the  Intcrnntional  Headquarters.     See  the 

Anniul  Report  of  INSO-"  Apostolic  Warfare." 
Balance  Sheets  are  also  produced  quarterly  a^ 

•vecv  Curps  in  Ui«  wpi  Id.  audited  and  siicned 


by  the  Local  Officers.  Dl  vlalonal  Balance  SheeU 
Isaued  monthly  and  audited  by  s  Special  Depart- 
ment at  Headquarters. 

Duly  and  Independently  audited  Balance 
Sheets  are  also  issued  annually  from  vtny 
Territorial  Headqoarten 

THE   AUZILIAkT  LBAQUB. 

The  Salvation  Army  International  AnxlUary 
League  is  composed 
1.— Of  persons  who,  without  neeossarlly  en- 
dorsing or  approving  of  every  single  method 
used  b"  the  Salvation  Army,  are  sufleiently  in 
sympathy  with  its  great  work  of  reelalminc 
drunkards,  rescuing  the  fallen— in  •  word, 
tavintf  the  loit— as  to  give  it  their  pbayirs, 

XNFLUKNOK,  AND  MONKT. 

3.— Of  persons  who,  although  seeing  eya>> 
eye  with  the  Army,  yet  are  unable  to  Join  it, 
owing  to  being  actively  engaged  in  the  work  ot 
their  own  denominations,  or  by  reason  of  bad 
health  or  other  infirmities,  which  forbid  their 
taklug  any  active  part  lit  Christian  work. 
Persons  are  enrolled  either  as  Subscribing  of 
Colleoting  Auxiliaries 

The  League  comprises  persons  of  Influenee  and 
ition.  members  of  nearly  all  denominations, 
and  many  ministers. 

PAMPHLBTS.-Auxillarles  will  always  be 
supplied  gratis  with  copies  of  our  Annual  Re- 
port and  Balance  Sheet  and  oth^r  pamphlets 
for  distribution  on  application  to  Headquarters. 
Some  of  our  Auxiliaries  have  matfrtally  helped 
us  In  this  way  by  distributing  our  literature  at 
the  seaside  and  elsewhere,  tnd  by  making 
arrangements  for  the  regular  supply  of  waiting 
rooms,  liydropathics,  and  hotels,  thus  helping 
to  dispel  the  prejudice  nnder  which  many 
persons  unacquainted  with  the  Army  are  found 
to  labour 

"All  tur  World"  is  posted  free  regularly 
each  month  to  Auxiliaries. 

For  further  information,  and  for  full  particu- 
lars of  the  work  of  The  Salvation  Army,  apply 
personally  or  by  letter  to  GENERAL  BOOTH, 
Or  to  the  Financial  Secretary  at  International 
Headquarters,  101.  Queen  Victoria  St.,  London, 
E.G.,  to  whom  also  contributions  should  be 
sent 

Cheques  and  Postal  Ordcn  eroisad  '*Ollj 


t  trM  regn]iirl5 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY:  A  SKETCH. 

BY   AN    OFFICER    OF    SEVENTEEN  .YEARS'    STANDING. 

■■*■■■'  / 

H'hat  is  the  Salvatum  Armyf 

It  is  an  Oi^ganisation  existing  to  effect  a  radical  revolution  in  the  spiritual 
condition  of  the  enormous  majority  of  the  people  of  all  lands.  Its  aim  is  to 
produce  a  change  not  only  in  the  opinions,  feelings,  and  principles  of  these  vasl 
populations,  but  to  alter  the  whole  course  of  their  lives,  so  that  instead  ot 
spending  their  time  in  frivolity  and  pleasure-seeking,  if  not  in  the  grossest  forms 
of  vice,  they  shall  spend  it  in  the  service  of  their  geneAtion  and  in  the  worship 
of  God.  So  far  it  has  mainly  operated  in  professedly  Christian  countries,  where 
the  overwhelming  majority  of  the  people  have  ceased,  publicly,  at  any  rate,  to 
^worship  Jesus  Christ,  or  to  submit  themselves  in  any  way  to  His  authority.  To 
what  extent  has  the  Army  succeeded  ? 

Its  flag  is  now  flying  in  34  countries  or  colonies,  where,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  nearly  10,000  men  and  women,  whose  lives  are  entirely  given  up  to  the 
work,  it  is  holding  some  49,800  religious  meetings  every  week,  attended  by 
millions  of  persons,  who  ten  yearsago  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea  of  pray- 
ing. And  these  operations  aire  but  the  means  for  further  extension,  as  will  be 
seen,  especially  when  it  is  remembered  that  the  Army  has  its  27  weekly  news- 
papers, of  which  no  less  than  31,000,000  copies  are  sold  in  the  streets,  public- 
houses,  and  popular  resorts  of  the  godless  majority.  From,  its,  ranks  it  is 
therefore  certain  that  an  ever-increasing  multitude  of  men  and  women  must 
eventually  be  won. 

That  all  this  has  not  amounted  to  the  creation  ot  a  mere  passing  gust  of 
feeling,  may  best  be  demonstrated  perhaps  from  the  fact  that  the  Army  has 
accumulated  no  less  than  £77^,000  worth  of  property,  pays  rentals  amount- 
ing to  £210,000  per  annum  for  its  meeting  places,  and  has  a  total  income  from 
all  sources  of  three-quarters  of  a  million  per  annum. 

Now  consider  from  whence  all  this  has  sprung. 

It  js  only  twenty-five  years  since  the  author  of  this  volume  stood"  absolutely 
aloaedQ\tbei.£asti,of^London,,to.  endeavourjoj^.  Christianise  •  its.irre^gioua; 


APPENDIX. 


multltudei,  without  the  remotest  conception  in  hii  own'mlnd  of  the  possibility 
of  any  such  Organisation  being  created.  , 

Consider,  moreover,  through  what  opposition  the  Salvation  Army  has  ever 
had  to  malce  its  way. 

In  each  country  it  has  to  face  universal  prejudice,  distrust,  and  contempt,  and 
often  stronger  antipathy  still.  This  opposition  has  generally  found  expression 
in  systematic.  Governmental,  and  Police  restriction,  followed  in  too  many  cases 
by  imprisonment,  and  by  the  condemnatory  outpourings  of  Bishops,  Clergy, 
Pressmen  and  others,  naturally  followed  in  too  many  instances  by  the  oaths 
and  curses,  the  blows  and  insults  of  the  populace.  :  Through  all  this,  in  country 
after  country,  the  Army  makes  its  way  to  the  position  of  universal  respect, 
that  respect,  at  any  rate,  which  is  shown  «to  those  who  have  conquered. 

And  of  what  material  has  this  conquering  host  been  made  ? 

Wherever  the  Army  g^fi5  it  gathers  into  its  meetings,  m  the  first  instance,  s 
crowd  of  the  most  debased,  brutal,  blasphemous  elements^' that  can  be  found 
who;  if  permitted,  interrupt  the  services,  and  if  they  see  *the  slightest;  sigh  of 
police  tolerance  for  their  misconduct,  frequently  fall  .upon  the  Army  officers  or 
their  property  with  violence. 'Yet  a  couple  of  Officers  face  such  an  audience 
with^  the  absolute  certainty  of  recruiting  out  of  it  an  Army  Corp8.'^!^Many 
thousands  of  those  who. are  now  most  prominent  in  the  raiiks  of  the  Ahny 
never  knew  what  it  was  to  pray  before  they  attended  its  services; 'and  large 
numbers  of  them  had  settled  into  a  profound  conviction  <>  that 'everything 
connected  with  religion  Vas  n.erly  false,  rit  is  out  of  such  material  that  God 
has  constructed  what  is  admitted  to  be  one  ot  the  mo8t^<  fervid /bodies  of 
believers  ever  seen  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Many  persons  in  looking  at  the  progress  of  the  Army  have  shown  a  strange 
want  of  discernment  in  talking  and  writing  as  though  all  this  had  been  done  in  a 
most  haphazard  fashion,  or  as  though  an  individual  could  by  the  mere  effort  of 
his  will  produce  such  changes  in  the  lives  of  others  as  he  chose.  The  slightest 
reflection  will  be  sufficient  we  are  sure  to  convince  any  impartial  individual  that 
the  gigantic  results  attained  by  the  Salvation  Afmy  could  only  be  reached  by 
steady  unaltering  processes  adapted  to  this  end. ':  And  what  are  the  processes 
by  Which  this  great  Army  has  been  made  ? 

I.  The  foundation  of  all  the  Army's  success,  Iboked  at  apart  from  its  divine 
source  of 'strength,  is  its  continued  direct  attack  upon  those  whom  it  tieeksto 
bring  under  the  influence  of  the  Gospel  The  Salvation  Army  Officer,  instead  of 
standing  upon  some  dignified  pedestal,' to  describe  the  fallen  condition  of  his 
ieltow  menl^'in  the  hope  that  though  far  from  him,  they  may  thus,  by  some 
mysterious  process,  come  to  a  better  life,  goes  down  into  the  street,  and  from 
door  to  doof,  and  from  room  to  room,  lays  his  hands  on  those  who  are  spiritually 
!<i«'Hrand  leads  them  to  the  Almighty  Healer.  In  its  forms  of  speech  and  writing 


:1 


»HE  SALVATION  ARMY:  A  SKETCH. 


vll 


poitibility 

f  has  ever 

itempt,  and 
expression 
many  cases 
ps,  Clergy, 
r  the  oaths 
,  in  country 
lal  respect, 

instance,  a 
li  be  found 
test,  sign  of 
f  officers  or 
in  audience 
ps.;^^Many 
f  the  Ahny 
•'and  large 
'everything 
al  that  God 
1,  bodies  of 

n  a  strange 
:n  done  in  a 
ere  effort  of 
he  slightest 
ividual  that 
reached  by 
I  processes 

m  its  divine 
it  teeks  to 
r,  instead  of 
ition  of  his 
IS,  by  some 
!t,  and  from 
spiritually 
and  writing 


the  Army  constantly  exhibits  this  same  characteristic.  Instead  of  propounding 
religious  theories  or  pretending  to  teach  a  system  of  theology,  it  speaks  much 
after  the  fashion  of  the  old  Prophet  or  Apostle,  to  each  individual,  about  his  or 
her  sin  and  duty,  thus  bringing  to  bear  upon  each  heart  and  conscience  the 
light  and  power  from  heaven,  by  which  alone  the  world  can  be  transformed. 

3.  And  step  by  step,  along  with  this  human  contact  goes  unmistakably 
something  that  is  not  human. 

The  puzzlement  and  self-contradiction  of  most  critics  of  the  Army  springs 
undoubtedly  from  the  fact  that  they  are  bound  to  account  for  its  success  without 
admitting  that  any  superhuman  power  attends  its  ministry,  yet  day  after  day, 
and  night  after  night,  the  wonderful  facts  go  on  multiplying.  The  man  who 
fast  night  was  drunk  in  a  London  slum,  is  to-night  standing  up  for  Christ  on  an 
Army  platform.  The  clever  sceptic,  who  a  few  weeks  ago  was  intenupting  tiic 
speakers  in  Berlin,  and  pouring  contempt  upon  their  claims  to  a  personal 
knowledge  of  the  unseen  Saviour,  is  to-day  as  thorough  a  believer  as  any  of 
inem.  The  poor  girl,  lost  to  shame  and  hope,  who  a  month  igo  was  an  out- 
cast of  Paris,  is  to-day  a  modest  devoted  follower  of  Christ,  working  in  a 
humble  situation.  To  those  who  admit  we  are  right  in  saying  "this  is 
the  Lord's  doing,"  all  is  simple  enough,  and  our  certainty  that  the  dregs 
of  Society  can  become  its  ornaments  requires  no  further  explanation. 

3.  All  these  modern  miracles  would,^however,  have  been  comparatively  useless 
but  for  the  Army's  system  of  utilising  the  gifts  and  energy  of  our  converts  to  the 
uttermost.  Suppose  that  without  any  claim  to  Divine  power  the  Army  had 
succeeded  in  raising  up  tens  of  thousands  of  persons,  formerly  unknown  and 
unseen  in  the  community,  and  made  them  into  Singers,  Speakers,  Musicians,  and 
Orderlies,  that  would  surely  in  itself  have  been  a  remarkable  fact.  But  not  only 
have  these  engaged  in  various  labours  for  the  benefit  of  the  community.  They  have 
been  filled  with  a  burning  ambition  to  attain  the  highest  possible  degree  of  useful- 
ness. No  one  can  wonder  that  we  expect  to  see  the  same  process  carried  on  suc- 
cessfully amongst  our  new  friends  of  the  Casual  Ward  and  the  Slum.  And  if  the 
Army  has  been  able  to  accomplish  all  this  utilisation  of  human  talents  for  the 
highest  purposes,  in  spite  of  an  almost  universally  prevailing  contrary  practice 
amongst  the  Churches,  what  may  not  its  Social  Wing  be  expected  to  do,  with 
the  example  of  the  Army  before  it  ? 

4.  The  maintenance  of  all  this  system  has,  of  course,  been  largely  due  to 
the  unq«<alified  acceptance  of  military  government  and  discipline.  But  for  this, 
we  cannot  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  even  in  our  own  ranks  difficulties  would 
every  day  arise  as  to  the  exaltation  to  front  seats  of  those  who  were  formerly 
persecutors  and  injurious.  The  old  feeling  which  would  have  kept  Paul 
suspected,  in  the  background,  after  his  conversion  is,  unfortunately, 
a    part    ot    the    cpnservative    groundwork    of  ^hunuui    nature    that    con- 


vr 


^■p 


i"^i^^ 


«^ 


viii 


APPENDIX, 


.1     I 


-I 


tinucs  .to 'exist  everywhere,  and  whirh  has  \n  be  overcome  by  rigid  dis- 
cipline in  order  to  secure  that  eveiywherc  and  always,  the  new  convert  should 
be  made  the  most  of  for  Christ.  But  our  Army  system  is  a  great  indis- 
putable fact,  so  much  so  that  our  enemies  sometimes  reproach  us  with  it  That 
it  should  be  posr^ble  to  create  an  Army  Organisation,  and  to  secure  faithful 
execution  of  duty  daily  is  indeed  a  wonder,  but  a  wonder  accomplished,  just  as 
completely  amongst  the  Republicans  ot  America  and  France,  as  amongst  the 
militarily  trained  Germans,  or  the  subjects  of  the  British  monarchy.  It  is 
notorious  that  we  can  send  an  officer  from  London,  possessed  of  no  extra- 
ordinary ability,  to  take  command  of  any  corps  m  the  world,  with  a  certainty 
that  he  will  find  soldiers  eager  to  do  his  bidding,  and  without  a  thought 
of  disputing  his  commands,  so  long  as  he  continues  faithful  to  the  prders  and 
regulations  under  which  his  men  are  enlisted. 

5.  But  those  show  a  curious  ignorance  who  set  down  our  successes  to  this 
discipline,  as  though  it  were  something  of  the  prison  order,  although  enforced 
without  any  of  the  power  lying  either  behind  the  prison  warder  or  the  Catholic 
priest.  On  the  contrary,  wherever  the  discipline  of  the  Army  has  been 
endangered,  and  its  regular  success  for  a  time  interrupted,  it  has  been  through 
an  attempt  to  enforce  it  without  enough  of  that  joyous,  cheerful  spirit  of  love 
which  is  its  main  spring.  Nobody  can  become  acquainted  with  our  soldiers  in 
any  land,  without  being  almost  immediately  struck  with  their  ^extraordinary 
gladness,  and  this  joy  is  in  itself  one  of  the  most  infectious  and  influential 
elements  of  the  Army's  success.  But  if  this  be  so,  amid  the  comparatively  well 
to  do,  judge  of  what  its  results  are  likely  to  be  amongst  the  poorest  and  most 
wretched  I  To  those  who  have  never  known  bright  days,  the  mere  sight  of  a 
happy  face  is  as  it  were  a  revelation  and  inspiration  in  one. 

6.  But  the  Army's  success  does  not  come  with  magical  rapidity ;  it  depends, 
like  that  of  all  real  work,  upon  infinite  perseverance. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  perseverance  of  the  Officer  who  nas  made  the  saving  ot 
men  his  life  work,  and  who,  occupied  and  absorbed  with  this  great  pursuit,  may 
naturally  enough  be  expected  to  remain  faithful,  there  are  multitudes  of  our 
Soldiers  who,  after  a  hard  day's  toil  for  their  daily  bread,  have  but  a  few  hours q1 
leisure,  but  devote  it  ungrudgingly  to  the  service  of  the  War.  Again  and  again, 
When  the  remains  of  some  Soldier  are  laid  to  rest,  amid  the  almost  universal 
respect  of  a  town,  which  once  knew  him  only  as  an  evil-dper,  we  hear  it  said  that 
this  man,  since  the  dafe  of  his  conversion,  from  five  to  ten  years  ago,  has  seldom 
been  absent  from  his  post,  and  never  without  good  reason  for  it  His  duty  may 
have  been  comparatively  insignificant,  "  only  a  door-keeper,"  *'  only  a  lV(gr  Cry 
seller,"  yet  Sunday  after  Sunday,  evening  after  evening,  he  would  be  present,  no 
matter  who  the  commanding  officer  might  be,  to  do  his  part,  bearing  with  the  un- 
ruly, breathing  hope  into  the  distressed,  and  showinK  unwavering  faithfulness  toalL 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY:  A  SKETCH. 


Ix 


y  ri^id  dis- 
nvert  should 

great  indis- 
/ith  it  That 
cure  faithful 
ished,  just  as 
amongst  the 
archy.    It  is 

of  no  extra- 
th  a  certainty 
jt  a  thought 
;  orders  and 

cesses  to  this 
ugh  enforced 
the  Catholic 
ly  has  been 
been  through 
spirit  of  love 
ir  soldiers  in 
^traordinary 
d  influential 
ratively  well 
:st  and  most 
!re  sight  of  a 

;  it  depends, 

the  saving  ot 

pursuit,  may 

Ludes  of  our 

few  hours  qI 

n  and  again, 

ast  universal 

r  it  said  that 

,  has  seldom 

is  duty  may 

a  WturCry 

present,  no 

with  the  un- 

ulnesstQaU. 


The  continuance  of  these  processes  of  mercy  depends  largely  upon  leader- 
ship, and  the  creation  and  maintenance  of  this  leadership  has  been  one  of  the 
marvels  of  the  Movement.  We  have  men  to-day  looked  up  to  and  reverenced 
over  wide  areas  of  country,  arousing  multitudes  to  the  most  devoted  service, 
who  a  few  years  ago  were  champions  of  iniquity,  notorious  in  nearly  every  form 
of  vice,  and  some  of  them  ringleaders  in  violent  opposition  to  the  Army.  We 
have  a  right  to  believe  that  on  the  same  lines  God  is  going  to  raise  up  just 
such  leaders  without  measure  and  without  end. 

Beneath,  behind,  and  pervading  all  the  successes  of  the  Salvation  Army  is  a 
force  against  which  the  world  may  sneer,  but  without  which  the  world's 
miseries  cannot  be  removed,  the  force  of  that  Divine  love  which  breathed  on 
Calvary,  and  which  God  is  able  to  communicate  by  His  spirit  to  human 
hearts  to-day. 

It  is  pitiful  to  see  intelligent  men  attempting  to  account,  without  the 
admission  of  this  great  fact,  for  the  self-sacrifice  and  success  of  Salvation 
Officers  and  Soldiers.  If  those  who  wish  to  understand  the  Army  would  only 
take  the  trouble  to  spend  as  much  as  twenty-four  hours  with  its  people, 
how  different  in  almost  every  instance  would  be  the  conclusions  arrived  at. 
Half-an-hour  spent  in  the  rooms  inhabited  by  many  of  our  officers  would 
be  sufficient  to  convince,  even  a  well-to-do  working  man,  that  life  could 
not  be  lived  happily  in  such  circumstances  without  some  superhuman  power, 
which  alike  sustains  and  gladdens  the  soul,  altogether  independently  of  earthly 
surroundings. 

The  Scheme  that  has  been  propounded  in  this  volume  would,  we  are  quite 
satisfied,  have  no  chance  of  success  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  we  have  such  a 
vast  supply  of  men  and  women  who,  through  the  love  of  Christ  ruling  in  their 
hearts,  are  prepared  to  look  upon  a  life  of  self-sacrificing  effort  for  the  benefit 
of  the  vilest  and  roughest  as  the  highest  of  privileges.  With  such  a  force  at 
command,  we  dare  to  say  that  the  accomplishment  of  this  stupendous  under- 
taking is  a  foregone  conclusion,  if  the  material  assistance  which  the  Army  does 
not  possess  is  forthcoming. 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY  SOCIAL  REFORM  WING. 
Temporary  Headquarters — 

36,  Upper  Thames  Street,  London,  EXL 

Objects. — The  bringing  together  01  employers  and  workers  for  their  mutual 
advantage. ,  Making  known  the  wants  of  each  to  each  by  providing  a  ready 
method  of  cohimunication. 

Plan  of  Operation.— The  opening  of  a  Central  Registry  OfBce,  which  for 
the  present  will  be  located  at  the  above  address,  and  where  registers  will  be 
kept  fne  of  charge  wherein  the  wants  of  both  employers  and  workers  will  be 
recorded,  the  registers  being  open  for  consultation  by  all  interested. 

Public  Waiting  Rooms  (for  male,  and  female),  to  which  the  unemployed  may 
come  for  the  purpose  of  scanning  the  newspapers,  the  insertion  of  advertise- 
ments for  employment  in  all  newspapers  at  lowest  rates.  Writing  tables,  &c.,' 
provided  for  their  use  to  enable  them  to  write  applications  for  situations  or 
work.'^rThe  receiving  of  letters  (replies  to  applications  for  employment)  for 
unemployed  workers. 

The  Waiting  Rooms  will  also  act  as  Houses-of-Call,  where  employers  can 
meet  and  enter  into  engagements  with  Workers  of  all  kinds,  by  appointment  or 
otherwise,  thus  doing  away  with  the  snare  that  awaits  many  of  the  unemployed, 
who  :have^  no  place  to  wait  other  than  the  Public  House,  which  at  present  is 
almost  the  only  -"  house-of-call  !*  forput-of-Work  men. 

By  liking  known  to  the  public  generally  the  wants  ot  the  unemployed  by 
means  of  advertisements,  by  circulars,  and  direct  application  to  employers,  the 
issue  of  labour  statistics  with  information  as  to  the  number  of  unemployed  who 
ar^  anxious  for  work,  the  various  trades  and  occupations  they  represent,  &c.,&c. 

,The^^opening  of  branches  of  the  Labour  Bureau  as  fast  as  funds  and 
opp^biiities  permit,  in  all  the  large  towns  and  centres  of  industry  throughout 
GreatlBiitain. 

In,:cdnnection  with  the  Labour  Bureau,  we  propose  to  deal  with  both  skilled 
and  unskilled^workers,  amongst  the  latter  forming  such  agencies  as  "Sandwich" 
Board'  Men's :  Soc]etj/;,lShoc  I  Black;iCarpet  Beating,  While-washing,  Window 


WING. 

>NDON,  E.C 

r  their  mutual 
iding  a  ready 

ke,  which  for 
gisters  will  be 
orkers  will  be 
i~ 

mployed  may 
of  advertise- 
ig  tables,  &c.; 
r  situations  or 
ployment)  for 


:the  labour  bureau. 


XI 


Cleauing,  Wood  Chopping,  and  other  Brigades,  all  of  which  will,  with  many 
then,  bie  put  into  operation  as  far  as  the  assistance  of  the  public  (ia  the  shape 
of  applying  for  workers  of  all  kinds)  will  afford  us  the  opportunity. 

A  Domestic  Servants'  Agency  will  also  be  a  branch  of  the  Bureau^  and  a 
Home  For  Domestic  Servants  out  of  situation  is  also  in  contemplation.  >  In  this 
aud  other  matters  funds  alone  are  required  to  commence  operations. 

All  communications,  donations,  etc.,  should  be  addressed  as  above,  marked 
"  Labour  Bureau,"  etc. 


ff 


employers  can 
ppointment  or 
!  unemployed, 
li  at  present  is 

lemployed  by 
imployers,  the 
employed  who 
esent,  &c.,  &c. 
s  funds  and 
ry  throughou: 


^  both  skilled 
I  "Sandwich" 
wng*  Window 


IPUPMI 


HiilHHI 


Xii 


APPENDIX. 


CENTRAL    LABOUR    BUREAU. 
LOCAL 'AGENTS  AND  CORRESPONDENTS*  DEPARTMENT. 

Dear  Comrade,— The  enclosed  letter,  which  has  been  sent  to  our  Officers 
throughout  the  Field,  will  explain  the  object  we  have  in  view.  Your  name  has 
been  suggested  to  us  as  one  whose  heart  is  thoroughly  in  symg^thy  with  any 
effort  on  behalf  of  poor  suffering  humanity.  /We  are  anxious  to  have  in  con- 
nection with  each  of  our  Corps,  and  in  every  locality  throughout  the  Kingdom, 
some  sympathetic,  level-headed  comrade,  acting  as  our  Agent  or  local  Corfes- 
pondent,  to  whom  we  could  refer  at  all  times  for  reliable  information,  and.wht^ 
would  take  it  as  work  of  love  to  regularly  communicate  useful  information 
respecting  the  social  condition  of  things  generally  in  their  neighbourhood. 

Kindly  reply^  giving  us  yourviews  and  feelings  on.  the  subject  as  soon  as 
possible,  99  we  are  anxious  to  organise  at  once.  The  first  business  on  hand  is 
for  us  to  get  information  of  those''  out  of  work  and  employers  requiring 
workers,  so  that  we  can  place  them  upon  our  registers,  and  make  known  the 
wants  both  of  employers  and  employes. 

We  shall  be  glad  of  a  communication  from  you,  giving  us  some  facts  as  to 
the  condition  of  things  in  your  locality,  or  any  ideas  or  suggestions  you  would 
like  to  give,  calculated  to  help  us  in  connection  with  this  good  work.;' 

I  may  say  that  the  Social  Wing  not  only  comprehends,  the  labour  question^ 
but. also  prison  rescue  and  other  branches  of  Salvation  work, ^dealing ywith 
brdcen-down  humanity  generally,  so  that  you  can  see  what  a  great  blessjng  you 
may  1)e  to  the  work  of.  God  by  co-operating  with  us. 

"*  Believe  me  to  be, 

Yours  affectionately  for  the  Suffering  and  Lost.'^etc. 


LOCAL  AGENTS'  DEPARTMENT. 


Xllt 


LOCAL  AGENTS  AND  CORRESPONDENTS'  DEPARTMENT. 


^' 


*PRQPOSITION  FOR  LOCAL  AGENT,  CORRESPONDENT,  ETC 


Name. 


Address . 


Occupation. 


If  a  Soldier,  what  Corps?. 


-,f 


If  not  a  Soldier,  what  Denomination  ? . 


U  spoken  to  oh  the  subject,  what  reply  they  have  mnde  ? . 


•s  requiring 
known  the 


Signed , 
Corps.. 


^^ 


Date. 


.189 


Kuidly  return  this  as  soon  as  possible,  and  we  will  then  place  ourselves  in 
communication  with  the  Comrade  you  propose  for  this  position. 


"xlv 


APPENDIX. 


TO  EMPLOYERS  OF  LABOUR 


M. 


We  beg  to  bring  to  your  notice  the  fact  that  the  Salvation  Army  has 
o]:cned  at  the  above  address  (in  connection  with  the  Social  Reform  Wing), 
a  Labour  Bureau  for  the  Registration  of  the  wants  of  all  classes  of  Labour,  for 
buth  employer  and  employ^  in  London  and  throughout  the  Kingdom,  our 
object  being  to  place  in  communication  with  each  other,  for  mutual  advantage, 
those  who  want  workers  and  those  who  want  work. 

Arrangements  have  been  made  at  the  above  address  for  waiting  rooms,  where 
employers  can  see  unemployed  men  and  women,  and  where  the  Matter  may  have 
accommodation  to  write  letters,  see  the  advertisements  in  the  papers,  &c.,  &c.  '' 

If  you  are  in  want  of  workers  of  any  kind,  will  you  kindly  fill  up  the  enclosed 
form  and  return  it  to  us  ?  We  will  then  have  the  particulars  entered  up,  and 
endeavour  to  have  your  wants  supplied.  All  applications,  I  need  hardly  assure 
you,  will  have  our  best  attention,  whether  they  refer  to  work  of  a  permanent  or 
temporary  character. 

We  shall  also  be  glad,  through  the  information  office  of  Labour  Department, 
to  give  you  any  further  information  as  to  our  plans,  &c.,  or  an  Officer  will  wait 
upon  you  to  receive  instructions  for  the  supply  of  workers,  if  requested. 

\As  no  charge  will  be  made  for  registration  ot  either  the  wants  of  employers 
pt  the  wants  of  the  unemployed,  it  will  be  obvious  that  a  considerable  outlay 
will  be.  necessary  to  sustain  these  operations  in  active  usefulness,  and  that 
therefore  financial  help  will  be  greatly  needed.' 

We  shall  gratefully  receive  donations,  from  the  smallest  coin  up,  to  help  to  cover 
the  cost  of  working  this  department. ':  We  think  it  right  to  say  that  only  in 
special  cases  shall  we  feel  at  liberty  to  give  personal  recommendations.  ;.This, 
however, >riir  no  doubt  be  understood,  seeing  that  we  shall  have  to  deal  with 
yeiy  large  numbers  who  are  total  strangers  to  us. 

Please/address  all  communications  or  donations  as  above,  marked  "Central 
labour  Bureau."  <fitc 


A  CRUSADE' AGAINST  "SWEATING." 


XV 


WB  PROPOSE  TO  ENTER  UPON  A  CRUSADE  AGAINST 
"SWEATING."   WILL  YOU  HELP  US? 

Dear  Sir, — In  connection  with  the  Social  Reform  Wing  a  Central  Labour 
Bureau  has  been  opened,  qne  department  of  which  will  deal  especially  with 
that  class  of  labour  termed  "  unskilled,"  from  amongst  whom  are  drawn  Board- 
men,  Messengers,  Bill  Distributors,  Circular  Addressers,  Window 
Cleaners,  White-washers,  Carpet  Beaters,  &c.,  &c. 

It  is  very  important  that  work  given  to  these  workers  and  others  not  enumer- 
ated, should  be  taxed  as  little  as  possible  by  the  Contractor,  or  those  who  act 
between  the  employer  and  the  worker. 

In  all  our  operations  in  this  capacity  we  do  not  propose  to  make  profit  out  of 
those  we  benefit ;  paying  over  the  whole  amount  received,  less  say  one  halfr 
penny  m  the  shilling,  or  some  such  small  sum  which  will  go  towards  the 
expense  of  providing  boards  for  "  sandwich "  boardmen.  the  hire  of  barrows, 
purchase  of  necessary  tools,  &c.,  &c. 

We  are  very  anxious  to  help  that  most  needy  class,  the  "  boardmen,"  many  of 
whom  are  "  sweated  "  out  of  their  miserable  earnings ;  receiving  often  as  low  as 
one  shilling  for  a  days  toil. 

We  appeal  to  all  who  sympathise  with  suffering  humanity, 
especially  Religious  and  Philanthropic  individuals  and  Societies,  to  assist  us  in 
our  efforts,  by  placing  orders  for  the  supply  of  Boardmen,  Messengers,  Bill- 
distributors,  Window-cleaners  and  other  kinds  of  labour  in  our  hands.  Our 
charge  for  "  boardmen  "  will  be  2s.  2d.,  including  boards,  the  placing  and  proper 
supervision  of  the  men,  &c.  Two  shillings,  at  least,  will  go  direct  to  the  men ; 
mos*  of  the  hirers  of  boardmen  pay  jthis,  and  some  even  more,  but  often  not 
more  than  one-half  reaches  the  men. 

We  shall  be  glad  to  forward  you  further  information  of  our  plans,  or  will  send 

a  representative  to  further  explain,  or  to  lake  orders,  on  receiving  notice  from 

you  to  that  effect. 

Believe  me  to  be, 

Yours  faithfully,  etc 


mmm 


xvl 


APPENDIX. 


CENTRAL  LABOUR  BUREAU. 

TO  THE  UNEMPLOYED.-— MALE  AND  FEMALE. 
NOTICE. 

A  Free  Registry,  for  all  kinds  of  unemployed  labour,  has  been  opened  at  the 
above  address. 

If  you  want  work,  call  and  make  yourself  and  your  wants  known. 

Enter  your  name  and  address  and  wants  on  the  Registers,  or  fill  ap  form 
below,  and  hand  it  in  at  above  address. 

Look  over  the  advertising  pages  of  the  papers  provided.  Tables  with  pens 
and  ink  are  provided  for  you  to  write  for  situations. 

If  you  live  at  a  distance,  fill  up  this  form  giving  all  particulars,  or  references, 
i^nd  forward  to  Commissioner  Smith,  care  of  the  Labour  Bureau. 


Name. 


Address^ 


Kind  of  work  wanted. 


Wages  you  ask. 


THE    LABOUR   BURP.AU. 


XVIf 


ened  at  the 

ill  op  fom 

with  pens 

references, 


Name. 


Age. 


During  past  lo  years  have  you 
had  regulat  employment  ? 


How  long  for? 


What  kind  of  work  ? 


What  work  can  you  do  ? 


What  have  you  worked  at  at 
odd  times  ? 


How  much  did  vou  earn  when 
regularly  employed  ? 


How  much  did  you  earn  when 
irregularly  employed  ? 


Are  you  married? 


Is  wife  living? 


How  many  children  and  ages  ? 


It  you  were  put  on  a  Farm  to 
wotic  at  anything  you  could 
do,  and  were  supplied  with 
food,,  lodging,  and  clothes. 
with  ^;)e  view  to  getting  you 
on  your  tect,  would  you  aoj 
all  you  could  ? 


HOW    BEGGARY    WAS    ABOLISHED     IN    BAVARIA    BY    COUNT 

RUMFORD. 

Count  Rumford  was  an  American  officer  who  served  with  considerablo 
distinction  in  the  Revolutionary  War  in  that  country,  and  afterwards  settled  in 
England.  From  thence  he  went  to  Bavaria,  where  he  was  promoted  to  the 
chief  command  of  its  army,  an<'  also  was  energetically  employed  m  the  Civil 
Government.  Bavaria  at  this  time  literally  swarmed  with  beggars,  who  were 
not  only  an  eyesore  and  discredit  to  the  nation,  but  a  positive  injury  to  the 
State.  The  Count  resolved  upon  the  extinction  of  this  miserable  profession, 
and  the  following  extracts  from  his  writings  describe  the  method  by  which  he 
accomplished  it : — 

"  Bavaria,  by  the  neglect  of  the  Government,  and  the  abuse  of  the  kindness 
and  charity  of  its  amiable  people,  had  become  infested  with  beggars,  with  whom 
mingled  vagabonds  and  thieve  0.  They  were  to  tlic  body  politic  what  parasites 
and  vermin  are  to  people  and  dwellings — breeding  by  the  same  lazy  neglect." 

(Page  14.) 

"  In  Bavaria  there  « ere  laws  winch  made  provision   for  the  poor,  bnt  they 

suffered  them  to  fall  into  neglect.    Beggary  had  become  general. ' 

—(Page  15.) 

"  In  short,*'  saj's  Count  Rumford,  "  these  detestable  vermin  swarmed  every- 
where ;  and  not  only  their  impudence  and  clamorous  importunity  were  bound- 
less, but  they  had  recourse  to  the  most  diabolical  arts  and  the  most  horrid  crimes 
in  the  prosecution  of  their  infamous  trade.  They  exposed  and  tortured  their 
own  children,  and  those  they  stole  for  the  purpose,  to  extort  contributions  from 
the  charitable."  -(Page  15.) 

"In  the  large  towns  beggary  was  an  organised  imposture,  with  a  sort  ot 
government  and  police  of  its  own.  Each  beggar  had  his  beat,  with  orderly 
successions  and  promotions,  as  wUh  other  governments.  There  were  battles  to 
decide  conflicting  claims,  and  a  good  beat  was  not  unfrequently  a  marriage 
portion  or  a  thumping  legacy."  '^-—(Page  16.) 


BY    COUNT 


oor,  but  they 


|R0W^BEGaARY|WA8  ABOLISHED  IN  BAVAR|A.\  xtiT 

*' He'^aw'that  it  was  not  enpugh  to  forbid  beggaly  by  law  or  to  punish  it  by 
impriaonment.  The  beggars  cared  for  neither.  ..The  energetic  Yankee  States- 
man attacked  the  question  as  he. did  problems  in  physical  science. ,  He  atudicd 
beggary  and  beggars.  How  ^ould  he  deal  with  one  individual  beggar  ?  ,  Send 
him.for  a  month  to«  prison  to  beg  again  as  soon  as  he  came  out?  That  is  no 
remedy.'^-'  The  evident  course  was  to  forbid  him  to  beg,  but  at  the  same  time  to 
give  htm  the  opportunity  to  labor ;  to  teach  him  to  work,  to  encourage  him  to 
honest  industry.  And  the  wise  ruler  sets  himself  to  provide  food,  comfort,  and 
work  for  every  beggar  and  vagabond  in  Bavaria,  and  did  it." 

-(Page      ) 

"  Count  Rumford,  wise  and  just,  sets  himself  to  reform  the  whole  class  of 
beggars  and  vagabonds,  and  convert  them  into  useful  citizens,  even  those  who 
had  sunk  into  vice  and  crime. 

" '  What,'  he  asked  himself, '  is,  after  the  necessaries  of  life,  the  first  condition 
of  comfort  ?'  Cleanliness,  which  animals  and  insects  prize,  which  in  man  affects 
his  moral  character,  and  which  is  akin  to  godliness.  The  idea  that  the  soul  is 
defiled  and  depraved  by  what  is  unclean  has  long  prevailed  in  all  ages.  Virtue 
never  dwelt  long  with  filth.  Our  bodies  are  at  war  with  everything  that  defiles 
them. 

"  His  first  step,  after  a  thorough  study  and  consideration  of  the  subject,  was 
(o  provide  in  Munich,  and  at  all  necessai'y  points,  large,  airy,  and  even  elegant 
Houses  of  Industry,  and  store  them  with  the  tools  ^d  materials  of  such  manu- 
factures as  were  most  needed,  and  would  be  most  useful.  Each  house  was 
provided  with  a  large  dining-room  and  a  cooking  rpparatus  sufficient  to  furnish 
an  economical  dinner  to  every  worker.  Teachers  were  engaged  for  each  kind 
of  labour.  Warmth,  light,  comfort,  neatness,  and  order,  in  and  around  these 
houses,  made  them  attractive.  The  dinner  every  day  was  gratis,  provided  at 
first  by  the  Government,  later  by  the  contributions  of  the  citizens.  Bakers 
brought  stale  bread  ;  butchers,  refuse  meat ;  citizens,  their  broken  victuals — all 
/ejoicmg  in  being  freed  from  the  nuisance  of  beggary.  The  teachers  of  handi- 
crafts were  provided  by  the  Governmei\t.  And  while  all  this  was  free,  every- 
one was  paid  the  full  value  for  his  labour.  You  shall  not  beg ;  but  here  is  com- 
fort, food,  work,  pay.  There  was  no  ill-usage,  no  harsh  language ;  in  five  years 
not  a  blew  was  given  even  to  a  child  by  his  instructor. 

"When  the  preparations  for  this  great  pvperimcnt  had  been  silently  completed, 
the  army — the  right  arm  of  the  governing  power,  which  had  been  prepared  for 
th«>  work  by  its  own  thorough  reformation — was  called  into  action  in  aid  of  the 
police  and  the  civil  magistrates.  Regiments  of  cavalry  were  so  disposed  as  to 
furnish  every  town  with  a  detachment,  with  patrols  on  every  highway,  and  squads 
in  the  villages,  keeping  the  strictest  order  and  discipline,  paying  the  utmost 
deference  to  the  civil  authorities,   and  avoidiug  all  .offence  to  the  people  j 


V 


' 


l^lXlBOilW-lil 


ioi 


APPENDIX. 


-«- 


instruetetf  when  the  order  was  given  to  arrest  every  beggar,  vagrant,  and  deserter, 
and  bring  them  before  the  magistrates.  This  military  police  cost  nothing  extrm 
to  the  country  beyond  a  few  cantonments,  and  this  expense  to  the  whole  cbuntry 
was  less  than  j£3,ooo  a-year. 

"The  1st  of  January,  1790—New  Year's  Day,  from  time  immemorial  the 
beggars'  holiday,  when  they  swarmed  in  the  streets,  expectmg  everyone  to 
give — the  commissioned  and  non-commissioned  officers  of  three  regiments  of 
infantry  were  distributed  early  in  the  morning  at  diflerent  points  of  Munich  to 
wait  for  orders.  Lieutcnant-Gencral  Count  Rumford  assembled  at  his  residence 
the  chief  officers  of  the  army  and  principal  magistrates  of  the  city,  and  com- 
municated to  them  his  plans  for  the  campaign.  Then,  dressed  in  the  uniform 
of  his  rank,  with  his  orders  and  decorations  glittering  on  his  breast,  setting  an 
example  to  the  humblest  soldier,  he  led  them  into  the  street,  and  had  scarcely 
reached  it  before  a  beggar  approached,  wished  him  a  '  Happy  New  Year,'  and 
waited  for  the  expected  alms.  '  I  went  up  to  him.'  says  Count  Rumtord,  '  and 
laying  my  hand  gently  on  his  shoulder,  told  him  that  henceforth  begging  would 
not  be  permitted  in  Munich ,  that  if  he  was  in  need,  assistance  would  be  given 
him ;  and  if  detected  begging  again,  he  would  be  severely  punished.'  He  was 
then  sent  to  the  Town  Hall,  his  name  and  residence  inscribed  upon  the  register, 
and  he  was  directed  to  repair  to  the  Military  House  of  Industry  next  morning, 
where  he  would  find  dinner,  work,  and  wages.  Every  officer,  every  magistrate, 
every  soldier,  followed  the  example  set  them ;  every  beggar  was  arrested,  and  in 
one  day  a  stop  was  put  to  beggary  in  Bavaria.  It  was  banished  out  of  the  kingdom. 

"  And  now  let  us  sec  what  was  the  progress  and  success  of  this  experiment. 
It  seemed  a  risk  to  trust  the  raw  materials  of  industry — wool,  flax,  hemp, 
etc.— to  the  hands  of  common  beggars ;  to  render  a  debauched  and  depraved 
class  orderly  and  useful,  was  an  arduous  enterprise.  Of  course  the  greater 
number  made  bad  work  at  the  beginning.  For  months  they  cost  more  than 
they  came  to.  They  spoiled  more  horns  than  they  made  spoons.  Employed 
first  in  the  coarser  and  ruder  manufactures,  they  were  advanced  as  they  im- 
proved, and  were  for  some  time  paid  more  than  they  earned — paid  to  encourage 
good  will,  effort,  and  perseverance.  These  were  worth  any  sum.  The  poor 
people  saw  that  they  were  treated  with  more  than  justice — with  kindness.  It 
was  very  evident  that  it  was  all  for  their  good.  At  first  there  was  confusion, 
but  no  insubordination.  Thrywere  awkward,  but  not  insensible  to  kindness. 
The  aged,  the  weak,  ind  the  children  were  put  to  the  easiest  tasks.  The 
younger  children  were  paid  simply  to  look  on  until  they  begged  to  join  in  the 
wotk,  which  seemed  to  them  like  play.  >  Everything  around  them  was 
made  dean,  quiet^  orderly,  and  pleasant.  Living  at  their  own  homes,  they 
I  came  ai^  fixed  hour  in  the  morning.  They  had  at  noon  a  liot,' nourishing  dinner 
ioX  aoup  a»d  bread.^Provisiona  were  either  contributed  or  bought  wholeaale,  and 


' 


MOW  BEGGARY  WAS  ABOLISHED  IN  BAVARIA: 


tn9 


the  economies  of  cookery  were  carried  to  the  last  point  of  perfection.  .  Count 
Rumford  had  so  planned  the  cooking  apparatus  that  three  women  cooked  a 
dinner  for  one  thousand  persons  at  a  cost,  though  wood  was  used,  of  4|d.  for 
fuel ;  and  the  entire  cost  of  the  dinner  for  1,200  was  only  £t  7s.  6|d.,  or  about 
one-third  of  a  penny  for  each  person  I  Perfect  order  was  kept— at  work,  at 
meals,  and  eveiywhere.  As  soon  as  a  company  took  its  place  at  table,  the  food 
having  been  previously  served,  all  repeated  a  short  prayer.  '  Perhaps,'  says 
Count  Rumford,  '  I  ought,  to  ask  pardon  for  mentioning  so  old-fashioned  1 
custom,  but  I  own  I  am  old-fashioned  enough  myself  to  like  such  things.' 

"  These  poor  people  were  generously  paid  for  their  labour,  but  something  more 
than  cash  payment  was  necessary.  There  was  needed  the  feeling  of  emulation, 
the  desire  to  excel,  the  sense  of  honour,  the  love  of  glory.  Not  only  pay,  but 
rewards,  prizes,  distinctions,  were  given  to  the  more  deserving.  Peculiar  care 
ws%>  taken  with  the  children.  They  were  first  paid  simply  for  being  present, 
idle  lookers-on,  until  they  begged  with  tears  to  be  allowed  to  work.  *  How 
sweet  those  tears  were  to  me,'  says  Count  Rumford,  '  can  easily  be  imagined.' 
Certain  hours  were  spent  bv  them  in  a  school,  for  which  teachers  were 
provided. 

"  The  effect  of  these  measures  was  very  remarkable.  Awkward  as  the  people 
were,  they  were  not  stupid,  and  learned  to  work  with  unexpected  rapidity.  More 
wonderful  was  the  change  in  their  manners,  appearances  and  the  very  expres- 
SM>n  of  their  countenances.  Cheerfulness  and  gratitude  replaced  the  gloom  of 
misery  and  the  suUenness  of  despair.  Their  hearts  were  softened ;  they  were 
most  grateful  to  their  benefactoi  for  themselves,  still  more  for  their  children. 
'These  worked  with  their  parents,  forming  little  industrial  groups,  whose  affec- 
tion excited  the  interest  of  every  visitor.  Parents  were  happy  in  the  int|)istry 
and  growing  intelligence  of  their  children,  and  the  children  were  proud  of  their 
OMm  achievements. 

* 

"  The  great  experiment  was  a  complete  and  triumphant  success.  When  Count 
Rumford  vnote  his  account  of  it,  it  had  been  five  years  in  operation ;  it  was, 
financially,  a  paying  speculation,  and  liad  not  only  banished  beggary,  but  had 
wrought  an  entire  change  in  the  manners,  habits,  and  very  appearance  of  the 
most  abandoned  and  degraded  people  in  the  kingdom." 

-  ("Count  Rumford,"  pages  18-24.) 

"Are  the  poor  ungrateful?  Count  Rumford  did  not  find  them  so.  When, 
from  the  exhaustion  of  his  great  labours,  he  fell  dangerously  ill,  these  poor 
people  whon:  he  had  rescued  from  lives  of  shame  and  misery,  spontaneously 
assnnbled,  formed  a  procession,  and  went  in  a  body  to  the  Cathedral  to  offer 
their  united  prayers  for  his  recovery.  When  he  wa^  absent  in  Italy,  and 
supposed  to  be  dangerously^iU  in  Naples, Jhey^set.apart  a  certain. tipe.sxEiy 


P!W 


!^\»«Jt,',.;r>K,';VR 


^rtsBBsimm 


I    • 


I 


^^.n^,  APPENDIX.  

-^  ———————— 

day,  after  wot k  hours,  to  pray  for  their  benefactor.  Aftur  an  absence  of  fifteen 
ntonths,  Count  Rumford  returned  with  renewed  health  to  Munich— a  city  wheie 
thtrre  was  work,  for  everyone,  and  not  one  person  whose  wants  were  not  provided 
for!l|;When  he  visited  the  military  workhouse,  the  reception  given  him  by  these 
poor' people  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  of  all  present.  A  few  days  after  be 
entertained  eighteen  hundred  of  them  in  the  English  garden-  a  festival  at  which 
30^000  of  the  citizens  of  Munich  assisted." 

("  Count  Rumford,  pages  24-25.) 


rd,  pages  24-25.) 


THE  CO-OPERATIVE  EXPERIMENT  AT  RALAHINE, 

"The  outrages  of  the  'Whitefeet,'  'Lady  Clare  Boys,'  and  'Terry  Alts' 
(labourers)  far  exceeded  those  of  recent  occurrence ;  yet  no  remedy  but  force 
was  attempted,  except  by  one  Irish  landlord,  Mr.  John  Scott  Vandelcur,  of 
Ralahine,  county  Clare,  late  high  sheriiTof  his  county.  Early  in  1831  his  family 
had  been  obliged  to  rake  flight,  ;n  charge  of  an  armed  police  TuiCe.  and  hi;^ 
steward  had  been  murdered  by  one  of  the  labourers,  having  been  chosen  by  lot 
at  a  meeting  held  to  decide  who  should  perpetrate  the  deed.  Mr.  Vandeleur 
came  to  England  to  seek  someone  who  would  aid  him  in  organising  the 
labourers  into  an  agricultural  and  manufacturing  association,  to  be  conducted 
on  co-operative  principles,  and  he  was  recommended  to  Mr.  Craig,  who,  at  great 
sacrifice  of  his  position  and  prospects,  consented  to  give  his  services. 

"  No  one  but  a  man  of  rare  zeal  and  courage  would  have  attempted  so 
apparently  hopeless  a  task  as  that  which  Mr.  Craig  undertook.  Both  the  men 
whom  he  had  to  manage — the  Terry  Alts  who  had  murdered  their  masters 
steward — and  their  surroundings  were  as  little  calculated  to  give  confidence  in 
Ki^  success  of  the  scheme  as  they  well  could  be.  The  men  spoke  generally  the 
Irish  language,  which  Mr.  Craig  did  not  understand,  and  they  looked  upon  him 
with'  suspicion  as  one  sent  to  worm  out  of  them  the  secret  of  the  murder 
recently  committed.  He  was  consequently  treated  with  coldness,  and  worse 
than  that.  On  one  occasion  the  outline  of  his  grave  was  cut  out  of  the  pasture 
near  his  dwelling,  and  he  carried  his  life  in  his  hand.  After  a  time,  however,  he 
won  the  confidence  of  these  men,  rendered  savage  as  they  had  been  by 
Ill-treatment. 

•'  The  farm  v/aa  let  by  Mr.  Vandeleur  at  a  fixed  rent,  to  be  paid  in  fixed 
quantities  of  farm  produce,  which,  at,  the  prices  ruling  in  1830-31,  would  b'lng 
in  ;^900,  which  included  interest  on  buildings,  machinery,  and  live  stork 
provlied  by  Mr  Vandeleur.  The  rent  alone  was  ^700.  As  the  farm  consisted 
of  618  bcres,  only  268  of  which  were  under  tillage,  this  rent  was  a  very  high 
one — a  fact  which  was  acknowledged  by  the  landlord.  All  profits  after  payment 
of  rent  and  interest  belonged  to  the  members,  divisible  at  the  end  of  the  year  if 
desired. ^S^^he^  tsrted  a  co-operative  store  to  supply  themselves  with  food  and 
clothing,  and  the^estate  was  managed  by  a  committee  of  the  members,  who  paid 
ewry  male  and .iiemale  member  wages  for  their  labour  in  labour  notes  which 
nvere  exchangeable  at  .the  store  for  goods  or  cash.'^>IntoNicating  drink  or  tobacco 
IverepirohibUcifL    Xhslcommittce.£acU  da^allotted  eachliiiaDjiis  duties.-^ The 


■JIJU..J Ji. 


!Ea! 


VBMP 


I^P 


1   I,     I 


I         j 


xxtv 


APPCNDlX; 


members  worked  the  land  partly  as  kitchen  garden  and  fruit  orchards,  and 
partly  as  daiiy  farm,  stall  feeding  being  encouraged  and  root  crops  grown  for 
the  cattle.  Pigs,  poultry,  &c.,  were  reared..  Wages  at  the  time  were  only  8d 
per  day  for  men  and  5d.  for  women,  and  the  members  were  paid  at  these  rates. 
Yet,  as  they  lived  chiefly  on  potatoes  and  milk  produced  on  the  farm,  which,  as 
well  as  mutton  and  pork,  were  sold  to  them  at  extremely  low  prices,  they  saved 
money  or  rather  n>  >tos.  Their  health  and  appearance  quickly  improved,  so  much 
so  that,  with  disea»  raging  round  them,  there  was  no  case  of  death  or  serious 
illness  among  them  tvhile  the  experiment  lasted.  The  single  men  lived  togethen 
in  a  large  building,  and  the  families  in  cottages.  Assisted  by  Mrs.  Craig,  the 
secretary  carried  out  the  most  enlightened  system  of  education  for  the  young,' 
those  old  enoiigh  being  alternately  employed  on  the  farm  and  in  the  school.] 
Sanitary  arrangements  were  in  a  high  state  of  perfection,  and  physical  and 
moral  training  were  most  carefully  attended  to.  In  respect  of  these  and  other 
social  arrangements,  Mr.  Craig  was  a  man  much  before  his  time,  and  he  has 
since  made  himself  a  name  in  connection  with  their  application  in  various  parts 
of  the  country. 

"The  'New  System,  as  the  Ralahine  experiment  was  called,' though 'at'fijrst 
regarded  with  suspicion  and  derision,  quickly  gained  favour  in  the  district,  so, 
that  before  long  outsiders  were  extremely  anxious  to  become  members  of  the 
association.  In  Januaiy,  1832,  the  community  consisted  of  fifty  adults  and 
seventeen  children.  The  total  number  afterwards  increased  to  eighty-one. 
Everything  -was  prosperous,  and  the  members  of  the  association  were 
not  only  benefited  themselves,  but  their  improvement,  exercised  a 
beneficent  influence  upon  the  people  in  their  neighbourhood.  It  was  hoped 
that  other  landlords  would  imitate  the  excellent  example  of  Mr.  Vandeleur, 
especially  as  his  experiment  was  one  profitable  to  himself,  as  well  as  calculated 
to  produce  peace  and  contentment  in  disturbed  Ireland.  Just  when  these  hopes 
were  rafsed  to  their  highest  degree  of  expectancy,  the  happy  community  at 
Ralahine  was  broken  up  through  the  ruin  and  flight  of  Mr.  Vandeleur,  who  had 
lost  his  property  by  gambling.  Everything  was  sold  off,  and  the  labour'  notes 
saved  by  the  members  would  have  been  worthless  had  not  Mr.  Craig,  with  noble 
self-sacrifice,  redeemed  them  out  of  his  own  pocket. 

"We  have  given  but  a  very  scanty  description  of  the  system  pursued  at 
Ralahine.  The  arrangements  were  in  most  respects  admirable,  and  reflected 
the  greatest  credit  upon  Mr.  Craig  as  an  organiser  and  administrator. ^Tu  his 
wisdom,  energy,  tact,  and  forbearance  the  success  of  his  experiment  was  in 
great  measure  due,  and  it  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  he  was  not  in  !a 
position  to  repeat  the' attempt  under  more  fav  urable  circumstances." 

("  Histoiy  of  a  CoK)perative^Fanc.") 


I 
prices,  they  saved 

improved,  so  much' 


CARLYLE    ON    THE     SOCIAL    OBLIGATIONS    OF    THE    NATION 

FORTY-FIVE   YEARS   AGO. 
Inserted  at  the  earnest  request  of  a  friend,  who  was  struck  by  the  coincidence  of 

some  ideas,  similar  to  those  of  this  volume,  set  forth  so  long  ago,  but  as  yet 

remaining  unrealised,  and  which  /  had  never  read. 

EXTRACTS    FROM     "PAST    AND    PRESENT." 

"A  Prime  Minister,  even  here  in  England,  who  shall  dare  believe  the 
heavenly  omens,  and  address  himself  like  a  man  and  hero  to  the  great  dumb- 
struggling  heart  of  England,  and  speak  cut  for  it,  and  act  out  for  it,  the  God  s- 
Justice  it  is  writhing  to  get  uttered  and  perishing  for  want  of — yes,  he  too  wL'l 
see  awaken  round  him,  in  passionate,  burning,  all-defiant  loyalty,  the  heart  of 
England,  and  such  a  '  support '  as  no  Division-List  or  Parliamentary  Majority 
was  ever  yet  known  to  yield  a  man !  Here  as  there,  now  as  then,  he  who  can 
and  dare  trust  the  heavenly  Immensities,  all  earthly  Localities  are  subject  to 
him.  We  will  pray  for  such  a  man  and  First-Lord; — yes,  and  far  better,  vc 
will  strive  and  incessantly  make  ready,  eath  of  us,  to  be  worthy  to  ser\'e  ana 
second  such  a  First-Lord !  We  shall  then  be  as  good  a^  sure  of  his  arriving ; 
sure  of  many  things,  let  him  arrive  or  not. 

"  Who  can  despair  of  Governments  that  passes  a  Soldier's  Guard-house,  or 
meets' a  red-coated  man  on  the  streets?  That  a  body  of  men  could  be  got 
together  to  kill  other  men  when  you  bade  them  :  this,  d  priori,  does  it  not  seem 
one  of  the  mipossiblest  things  ?  Yet  look,  behold  it :  in  the  stoltdeSt  of 
Do-nothing  Governments,  that  impossibility  is  a  thing  done." 

— {Carlyle,  "  Past  and  Present, '  page  223.) 

•'  Strange,  interesting,  and  yet  most  mournful  to  reflect  on.  Was  this,  then, 
of  all  the  things  mankind  had  some  talent  for,  the  one  thing  important  to  learn 
well,  and  bring  to  perfection  ;  this  of  successfully  killing  one  another?  Truly, 
you  have  learned  it  well,  and  carried  the  business  to  a  high  perfection.  I»  is 
incalculable  what,  by  arranging,  commanding,  and  regimenting  you  can  make  oil 
men.  These  thousand  straight-standing,  Arm-set  individuals,  who  shoulder 
arms,  who  march,  wheel,  advance,  retreat ;  and  are,  for  your  behoof  a  magazine 
charged  with  fiery  death,  in  the  most  perfect  condition  of  potentifil  activity. 
Few  months  ago,  till  the  persuasive  sergeant  came,  what  were  they  ?  Multiform 
ragged  losels,  runaway  apprentices,  stan-cd  weavers,  thievish  valets  ;  an  entirely 
broken  population,  fast  tending  towards  the  trpacUnill.  But  the  persuasive 
eor=faant  came   by  ta^j  of  drum  enlislcd  or  formed  lists  of  them  took  hr»rtily 


xxvl 


APPENDIX. 


!     ! 


!      I 


*.i 


to  drilling  them;  and  he, and  you  have  made  them  this!  Most  potent 
efiectual  for  all  work  whatsoever,  is  wise  planning,  firm,  combining,  and 
commanding  among  men.  Let  no  man  despair  of  Governments  who  look  on 
these  two  sentries  at  the  Horse  Guards  and  our  United  Service  clubs.'  I  could 
conceive  an  Emigration  Service,  a  Teaching  Service,  considerable  varieties  of 
United  and  Separate  Services,  of  the  due  thousands  strong,  all  cifective  as  this 
Fighting  Service  is  ;  all  doing  t/ui'r  work  like  it — which  work,  much  more  than 
fighting,  is  henceforth  the  necessity  of  thc^e  row  ages  we  are  got  into !  Much 
lies  among  us,  convulsively,  nigh  desperately,  struggling  to  be  bom" 

■   {"  Past  and  Present,"  page  224.) 

'  It  was  well,  all  tins,  wc  know ;  and  yet  it  was  not  well.  Forty  soldiers,  I  am 
told,  will  disperse  the  largest  Spitalfields  mob  ;  forty  to  ten  thousand,  that  is  the 
proportion  between  drilled  and  undrilled.  Much  there  is  which  cannot  yet  be 
organised  in  this  world,  but  somewhat  also  which  can — somewhat  also  Which 
must.  When  one  thinks,  for  example,  what  books  are  become  and  becoming 
for  us,  what  operative  Lancashircs  are  become ,  what  a  Fourth  Estate  and 
innumerable  virtualities  not  yet  got  to  be  actualities  arc  become  and  becoming, 
one  stes  organisms  enough  in  the  dim  huge  future,  and  'United  Services' 
quite  other  than  the  redcoat  one  .  and  much,  even  in  these  years,  struggling  to 
be  born  !  "  -H"  Past  ana  f  resent,"  page  226. 

"  An  effective  '  Teaching  Service,*  I  do  consider  that  there  must  be ;  some 
education  secretary,  captain-general  of  teachers,  who  will  actually  contrive  to 
get  us  taught.  Then  again,  why  should  tli^ rt-  not  be  an  •  Emigration  Service,' 
and  secretary  with  adjuncts,  with  funds,  forces,  idle  navy  ships,  and  ever- 
increasing  apparatus,  in  fine  an  effective  system  of  emigration,  so  that  at  length 
before  our  twenty  years  of  respite  ended,  every  honest  willing  workman  who 
found  England  too  st^uit,  aiid  the  'organisation  of  labour'  not  yet  sufficiently 
advanced,  might  iind  likewisc'^a  bridge  built  to  carry  him  into  new  western 
landti,  there  to  'organise'  with  more  elbow  room  some  labour  for  himself? 
I'hcre  to  be  a  real  blessing,  raising  ni-w  corn  for  us,  purchasing  new  webs  and 
hatchets  from  us ;  leaving  us  at  least  in  peace ;  instead  of  staying  here  to  be  a! 
physical-force  Chartist,  unblessed  and  no  blessing  1  Is  it  not  scandalous  to  con- 
sider that  a  Prime  Minister  could  raise  within  the  year,  as  I  have  seen  it  done,  a 
hundred  and  twenty  millions  sterling  to  shoot  the  French  ;  and  we  are  stopped 
short  for  want  of  the  hiindri'dth  part  of  that  to  keep  the  English  living?  The 
Uodi«9  of  the  English  liviug,  and  the  souls  of  the  English  living,  these  two 
'^rvtew^'  an  J^tiration  Service  and  an  Emigration  Service,  these  with  others, 
will  have  actually  tu  be  orgapiHeil. 

|^A  free  bridge  lur  emigrants!  Why,  we  should  then  be  on  a  par  with  America 
itSM^ir,  the  must  favoured  of  all  lands  that  have  no  government;  and  wc  should 
lia\*^^  besides,  so  many,,  traditions  uud  mementos  ..^  uf  priceless  tbinuh  wlii«'h 


this  f  Most  potent 
■m,  combining,  and 
tncnls  who  look  on 
rviceclub8.j  I  could 
derable  varieties  «)f 
:,  all  effective  as  this 
K  much  more  than 
ire  got  into!  Much 
6e  born:* 

2sent,"  page  224.) 
Forty  soldiers,  I  am 
housand,  that  is  the 
liich  cannot  yet  be 
newhat  also  Which 
me  and  becoming 
F'ourth  Estate  and 
)me  and  becoming. 
'United  Services' 
ears,  struggling  to 
sent,"  page  226. 

?  must  be;  some 
tually  contrive  to 
ligration  Service,' 
ships,   and  ever- 
so  that  at  length 
workman  who 
yet  sufficiently 
to  new  western 
>ur  for  himself? 
new  webs  and 
ing  here  to  be  aj 
indTalous  to  con- 
f  seen  it  done,  a 
we  are  stopped 
h  living?    The 
ving,  these  two 
■se  with  others, 

r  with  America 

und  we  should 

thinubi  wlili'fi 


CARLYLE  ON  THE  SOCIAL  OBLIGATIONS. 


xxvii 


g 


America  has  cast  away.  Wc  could  proceed  deliberately  to '  organise  labour  not 
doomed  to  perish  unless  we  effected  it  within  year  and  day  eveiy  willing 
worker  that  proved  superfluous,  finding  a  bridge  ready  for  him.  This  verily  will 
have  to  be  done ;  the  time  is  big  with  this.  Our  little  Isle  is  grown 
too  narrow  for  us ;  but  the  world  is  wide  enough  yet  for  another  six  thousand 
years.  England's  sure  markets  will  be  among  new  colonies  of  Englishmen  in  all 
quarters  of  the  Globe.  All  men  trade  with  all  men  when  mutually  convenient, 
and  are  even  bound  to  do  it  by  the  Maker  of  Men.  Our  friends  of  China,  who 
guiltily  refused  to  trade  in  these  circumstances — had  we  not  to  argue  with  them, 
in  cannon-shot  at  last,  and  convince  them  that  they  ought  to  trade  ?  '  Hostile 
tariffs  will  arise  to  shut  us  out,  and  then,  again,  will  fall,  to  let  us  in  ;  but  the 
sons  of  England — speakers  of  the  English  language,  were  it  nothing  more — will 
in  all  times  have  the  ineradicable  predisposition  to  trade  with  England.  Mycale 
was  the  Pan-1-onian — rendezvous  of  all  the  tribes  of  Ion — for  old  Greece ;  why 
should  not  London  long  continue  the  All  Saxon  Home,  rendezvous  of  all  the 
'  Children  of  the  Harz-Rock,  arriving;  in  select  samples,  from  the  Antipodes 
and  elsewhere,  by  steam  and  otherwise,  to  the  '  season '  here  ?  What  a  future ! 
Wide  as  the  world,  if  we  have  the  heart  and  heroism  for  it,  which,  by  Heaven's 
blessing,  we  shall. 

"  Keep  not  standing  fixed  and  rooted, 

Briskly  venture,  briskly  roam ; 
Head  and  hand,  where'er  thoti  foot  it, 

And  stout  heart  are  still  at  home. 
In  what  land  the  sun  does  visit 

Brisk  are  we,  what  e'er  betide ; 
To  give  space  for  wandering  »  it 

That  the  world  was  made  so  wide. 

"Fourteen  hundred  years  ago  it  was  a  considerable  '  Emigration  Service,*  never 
doubt  it,  by  much  enlistment,  discussion,  and  apparatus  that  we  ourselves 
arrived  in  this  remarkable  island,  and  got  into  our  present  difficulties  among 
others. "  -("  Past  and  Preserit,"  pages  228-230.)    I 

"  The  main  substance  of  this  immense  problem  pf  organising  labour,  and  first 
of  all  of  managing  the  working  classes,  will,  it  is  very  clear,  have  to  be  solved 
by  those  who  stand  practically  in  the  middle  of  it,  by  those  who  themselves 
work  and  preside  over  work.  Of  all  that  can  be  enacted  by  any  Parliamemt  in 
regard  to  it,  the  germs  must  already  lie  potentially  extant  in  those  two  classes 
who  are  to  obey  such  enactment.  A  human  chaos  in  which  there  is  no  light, 
you  vainly  attempt  to  irradiate  by  light  shed  on  it ;  order  never  can  arise  there." 

— ("  Past  and  Present,"  pages  231-52.) 

/'  Look  around  you.  '.  Your  world-hosts  are  all  in  mutiny,  in  confusion,  destitu- 
tion ;  on  the  eve  of  fiery  wreck  and  madness.  They  will  not  narch  farther  for 
you,  on  the  sixpence  a  day  and  supply-and-demand  principle :  they  will  not;  nor 
ought  they ;  nor  can  they.    Ye  shall  reduce  them  to  order ;  begvi.'reducing' them 


^xxvii> 


APPENDIX. 


!  i 


to  order,  to  just  subordination ;  noble  loyalty  iu  return  for  noble  guidance. 
Their  souls  are  driven  nigh  mad  ;  let  yours  be  sane  and  never  saner.  -Not  as  a 
bewildered  bewildering  mob,  but  as  a  firm  regimented  mass,  with'  real  captains 
over  them,  will  these  men  march  any  more.  All  human  interests,  combined 
human  endeavours,  and  social  growth  in  this  world  have,  at  a  certain  stage  of 
their  development,  required  organising;  and  work,  the  greatest  of  human 
interests,  does  not  require  it. 

"  God  knows  the  task  will  be  hard,  but  no  noble  task  was  ever  easy.  This  task 
will  wear  away  your  lives  and  the  lives  of  your  sons  and  grandsons  ;  but  for 
what  purpose,  if  not  for  tasks  like  this,  were  lives  given  to  men?  Ye  shall 
cease  to  count  your  thousand-pound  scalps  ;  the  noble  of  you  shall  cease  I  Nay, 
the  very  scalps,  as  I  say,  will  not  long  be  left,  if  you  count  only  these.  Ye  shall 
cease  wholly  to  he  barbarous  vulturous  Choctaws,  and  become  noble  European 
nineteenth-century  men.  Ye  shall  know  that  Mammon,  in  never  such  gigs  and 
flunky  '  respectabilities '  in  not  the  alone  God ;  that  of  himself  he  is  but  a 
devil  and  even  a  brute-god. 

*'  Difficult  ?  Yes,  it  will  be  difficult.  The  shurt-fibre  cotton  ;  that,  too,  was 
difficult.  The  waste-cotton  shrub,  long  useless,  disobedient  as.  the  thistle  by 
the  wayside;  have  ye  not  conquered  it,  made  it  into  beautiful  bandana  webs, 
white  woven  shirts  for  men.  bright  tinted  air  garments  wherein  flit  goddesses  ? 
Ye  have  shivered  mountains  asimder,  made  the  hard  iron  pliant  to  you  as  putty ; 
the  forest-giants — marsh-jotuns — bear  sheaves  of  golden  grain  ;  \£gir — the 
Sea-Demon  himself  stretches  his  back  for  a  sleek  highway  to  you,  and  on 
Firehorses  and  Windhorses  ye  career.  Ye  are  most  strong.  Thor,  red-bearded, 
with  his  Llue  sun-eyes,  with  his  cheery  heart  and  strong  thunder-hammer,  he 
and  you  have  prevailed.  Ye  are  most  strong,  ye  Sons  of  icy  Nurth,'  of  the  far 
Kast,  far  marching  from  your  rugged  Eastern  Wildernesses,  hitherward  from  the 
gray  dawn  of  Time !  Ye  are  Sons  of  the  /<)///«-land ;  the  land  of  Difficulties 
Conquered.  Difficult  ?  You  must  try  this  thing.  Once  try  it  with  the  under- 
standing that  it  will  and  shall  have  to  be  done.  Try  it  as  you  try  the  paltrier 
thing,  making  of  money  I  I  will  bet  on  you  once  more,  against  all  Jotiins. 
Tailor-gods,  Double-barrelled  Law-wards,  and  Denizens  of  Chaos  whatsoever!" 

— ("  Past  and  Preserft,"  pages  236-37.) 

» '  ■ 

"A  question  here  arises:  Whether,  in  some  ulterior,  perhaps  not  far-distant 
stage  of  this  'Chivalry  of  Labour,'  your  Master-Worker  may  not  find  it 
possible,  and  needful,  to  grant  his  Workers  permanent  interest  in  his  enter- 
prise and  theirs?  So  that  it  become,  in  practical  result,  what  in  essential 
act  and  justice  '  it  ever,,  is,  a  joint  -enterprise  ;  ..all  men,-^- from  ■- the 
Chief  Master  down  to  the  lowest  Overseer  and  Operative,  ecor^omically 
well  as  loyally  concerned  for  it  ?  Which  question  I  do  not  'answer. 
The  anaweri.liei;c«oULelsc&.far,^is  gerhaps,  Yes;    and  yet^onc^knoj^^sithe. 


ijfWRIS 


-\a 


br  noble  guidance, 
er  saner.  .Not  as  a 
,  witlireal  captains 
interests,  combined 
a  certain  stage  of 
greatest  of  human 

^creasy.  This  task 
grandsons ;  but  for 
o  men?  Ye  shall 
shall  cease  I  Nay, 
ly  these.  Ye  shall 
e  noble  European 
ever  such  gigs  and 
mself  he  is  but  a 

)n  ;;  that,  too,  was 
as  the  thistle  by 
ful  bandana  webs, 
in  flit  goddesses  ? 
t  to  you  as  putty  ; 
[rain ;    iEgir— the 
'  to  you,  and  on 
hor,  red-bearded, 
nder-hammer,  he 
North,  of  the  far 
lerward  from  the 
lid  of  Difficulties 
with  the  under- 
u  try  the  paltrier 
iinst  all  Jotuns. 
IS  whatsoever ! " 
pages  236-37.) 

i  not  far-distant 
lay  not  find  it 
St  in  his  enter- 
lat  in  essential 
en,S:-  from  ;  the 
;,  econ^omically 
o  not  ^answer, 
nc^knoi^aith^' 


V 


!■  ;■■.  t'-.t 
••■-\  ,      ■ 


,!\    .. 


"(*• 


■*!.•:■■ 


*:  ■,:. 


vase 

CARUyLE  ON   THE   SOCIAL  OBLIGATIONS?.  i^^^^y 


JDespotism  is  essential  in  most  enterprises ;  I  am  toV!  they  do  not 

!^dom  of  debate   on  board  a  seventy-four.    Republicun  senate  and 

}uld  not  answer  well  in  cotton  mills.     And  yet,  observe  there  too/ 

lot  nomad's  or  ape's  Freedom,  but  man's  Freedom;  this  is  indis^ 

<We  must  have  it,  and  will  have  it !      To  reconcile  Despotism  with 

veil,  is  that  such  a  mystery  ?    Do  you  not  already  know  the  way  ? 

ke  your  Despotism  Jus/.,     Rigorous  as  Destiny,  but  just,  too,  as 

.  rits  Laws.    The  Laws  of  Qod;  all  men  obey  these,  and  have  no  - 

It  all  but  in  obeying  them2    The  way  is  already  known,  part  of  the 

mrage  and  some  qualities  are  needed  for  walking  on  it." 

— ("  Past  and  Present,"  pages  241-42.) 

y-game  is  this  man's  life,  but  a  battle  and  a  march,  a  warfare  with 

and  powers.    No  idle  promenade  through  fragrant  -orange-groves 

oweiy  spaces,  waited  on  by  the  choral  Muses  and  r66y  Hours'.     It 

primage  through  burning  sandy  solitudes.,  through  regions  of 'thick- 

'He  walks  among  men,  loves  men  with  inexpressible  soft  pity,  as 

ove  him,  but  his  soul  dwells  in  solitude  in  the  uttermost  parts  of 

,  green  oases  by  the  palm-tree  wells  he  rests  a  space,  but  anon  he 

.py  forward,  escorted  by  the  Terrors  and  the  Splendours,  the  Arch- 

'  Archangels;    All  Heaven,  all  Pandemonium  are  his^  escort.    The 

ancing  from  the  Intensities  send  tidings  to  him ;  the'graves,  silent 

ad,  from  the  Eternities.     Deep  calls  for  him  unto  Deep." 

:  -("  Past  and  Present,"  page  249. 


